A  FRIEND 

WITH  THE 

jCOUNTERd 
SIG 


MACMILLAN'S      STANDARD     LIBRARY 


CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 


A   FRIEND   WITH   THE 
COUNTERSIGN 


BY 
B.   K.   BENSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "WHO  GOBS  THSBE?" 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS 


COPTBISHT,    1901, 

BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  July,  1901.    Reprinted  December, 
1901  ,'  October,  1902  ;  March,  1907 ;  October,  1908. 


Norfaooti  $«BS 

J.  8.  Cubing  ft  Co.  —  BerwU  k  &  Smith 
Norwood  M«*  U.f  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    DOCTOR  KHAYME 1 

II.    AT  HEADQUARTERS,  A.  OF  P 7 

III.  SCOUTING  WITH  SHAKESPEARE 20 

IV.  SUSPICIONS 36 

V.  To  THE  WILDERNESS  FOR  WARREN   ....  42 

VI.  THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS        ...  58 

VII.    WITH  GENERAL  WARREN 73 

VIII.    WITH  THE  DOCTOR 79 

IX.    To  MINE  RUN 83 

X.    IN  THE  MINE  RUN  LINES 98 

XI.  HOLLOW  BUTTONS         .......  114 

XII.    MYSTERY 120 

XIII.  WITH  MEADE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS    ....  129 

XIV.  WITH  LEE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS         ....  142 
XV.    THE  HORSESHOE  SALIENT 152 

XVI.    THE  BLOODY  ANGLE 167 

XVII.    LYDIA  COMES  AND  GOES 185 

XVIII.    AN  AMBULANCE 203 

XIX.    JERICHO 213 

XX.    SHOWALTER    .                229 

XXI.    YORK 244 

XXII.     FIRE 253 

V 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIIL    WATER 261 

XXIV.    SERVING  CAVALRY 267 

XXV.    ON  LEE'S  RIGHT  FLANK 276 ' 

XXVI.    KING  WILLIAM 287 

XXVII.    THE  SIEGE  OF  SHOWALTER 299 

XXVIH.    HIGH  POLITICS .308 

XXIX.    "  LIEUT.  C.  M.  CHA  " 317 

XXX.    CATCHING  TARTARS 323 

XXXI.    A  WEEK  OF  AGONY 335 

XXXII.    A  FORLORN  HOPE 347 

XXXIII.  FORTINBRAS 363 

XXXIV.  THE  SEIZURE 378 

XXXV.    A  THOROUGHFARE 387 

XXXVI.    BERWICK'S  LAST  SERVICE 398 

XXXVII.    LIFE  OR  DEATH 407 

XXXVIII.    LIFE  AND  DEATH 429 

XXXIX.    FROM  LYDIA'S  NARRATION 440 

XL.    ANNULMENT 451 

MAPS 

TO   TACK   PAGE 

THE  RAPIDAN 48 

FROM  THE  RAPIDAN  TO  THE  Po 156 

FROM  THE  Po  TO  THE  PAMUNKEY 194 

FROM  THE  PAMUNKEY  TO  THE  JAMES                                        ,  232 


A  FEIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 


DOCTOR   KHATME 

"When  afar 

You  rise,  remember  one  man  saw  you, 
Knew  you,  and  named  a  star  !  "  —  BROWNING. 

WE  were  at  the  Sanitary  Commission's  field  hospital.  There 
were  ambulances,  tents,  surgical  appliances.  The  Doctor  and 
his  daughter  had  been  busy  all  the  morning. 

On  a  bed,  swung  by  pulleys  and  ropes,  lay  the  outstretched 
form  of  a  gallant  enemy  who  had  been  picked  up  on  the  field 
of  Bristoe  by  one  of  Dr.  Khayme's  ambulances.  Colonel 
PaulFs  wound  was  in  the  throat,  so  near  an  artery  that  the 
most  delicate  care  was  required  in  handling  him.  Lydia,  a 
nurse  trained  in  the  British  hospital  at  Bombay,  and  proficient 
through  experience  in  the  campaigns  of  McDowell,  McClellan, 
and  their  successors,  was  giving  herself  to  this  seemingly  fatal 
case  with  great  patience,  while  the  skill  of  Dr.  Khayme  had 
already  effected  a  little  alleviation  of  the  poor  man's  agony ; 
the  colonel  was  yet  speechless,  indeed  great  fear  was  felt  that 
he  would  never  regain  his  power  of  speech. 

******* 

I  believe  there  is  a  theory,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  fancy, — 
for  the  Doctor  speedily  knocked  the  notion  out  of  my  brain 
with  one  of  his  arguments  invariably  unanswerable,  —  that  all 


2  A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

things  move  in  cycles.  One  of  those  novel  writers,  Marryat 
perhaps,  makes  a  peculiar  character  contend  that  everything 
comes  again  —  that  you  and  I  shall  after  a  while  find  ourselves 
back  in  this  same  old  world,  surrounded  by  the  same  old 
friends,  and  smoking  the  same  old  pipes.  Even  at  the  time  I 
am  speaking  of  I  didn't  believe  all  this,  for  while  it  is  true  that 
the  Doctor  was  slowly  puffing  from  the  very  pipe  with  the  very 
idol's  head  that  I  had  seen  more  than  a  year  before,  my  cob 
was  an  innovation ;  I  had  added  the  comfort  of  smoking  to  my 
unpleasant  experience  while  with  the  Confederates.  Yet  here 
I  was  at  Centreville,  from  which  hamlet  more  than  two  years 
ago  I  had  marched  in  the  ranks  of  the  Eleventh  Massachusetts 
to  the  disastrous  field  of  the  first  Bull  Run. 

"  It  all  comes  back  ?  "  asked  my  old  tutor. 

"  Vividly." 

The  Doctor  and  Lydia  had  walked  with  me  to  a  hill  from 
which  we  had  a  wide  view  of  the  undulating  country  to  the 
southward,  a  region  peculiarly  familiar. 

"  How  long  has  it  been  since  you  saw  this  landscape  ?  " 

"How  long  is  it  from  August  twenty-eighth,  sixty-two,  to 
October  seventeenth,  sixty-three,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Four  hundred  and  fifteen  days,"  replied  Dr.  Khayme. 

"  It  is  ten  thousand,"  said  Lydia. 

"  This  is  the  very  spot  where  we  rested  on  the  twenty-eighth 
of  August  last  year ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Where  were  we  then,  Father  ?  " 

"  At  Manassas  Junction,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "do  you  see  that  turn  in  the  road  down 
yonder?  From  that  spot,  as  Gregg's  brigade  was  marching 
toward  Stone  Bridge,  we  saw  the  dust  made  by  Pope's  column 
coming  from  Manassas  to  Centreville." 

My  dear  Lydia's  eyes  were  moist;  she  seemed  about  to 
speak,  but  remained  silent. 

"  Is  it  not  strange,  Doctor,  that  I  should  be  here  again,  at  my 
old  starting-point  ?  " 


DOCTOR   KHAYME  3 

"Yes;  certainly  strange,  Jones,  the  world  would  say,  no 
doubt ;  yet  in  Meade's  army  there  are  thousands  who  are  think- 
ing somewhat  similarly  in  regard  to  their  own  experience." 

"  But  with  a  great  difference,"  said  Lydia ;  "  Mr.  Berwick 
has  had  the  experience  of  two  persons." 

"  General  Meade  will  retreat  no  farther,"  said  the  Doctor. 

In  the  Bristoe  campaign,  Lee's  hopes  of  repeating  Stonewall 
Jackson's  famous  march  of  the  previous  year  had  been  baffled 
by  the  successful  retreat  of  the  Union  army,  in  determining 
which  retreat  I  had  played  some  small  part ;  indeed,  through 
very  remarkable  good  luck,  I  was  credited  by  General  Meade 
with  having  been  the  first  to  bring  him  undoubted  news  of 
Lee's  purpose.  The  Union  army  now  occupied  the  old 
Confederate  intrenchments  constructed  in  Beauregard's  time. 
Farther  than  we  could  see,  the  lines  of  infantry  extended  right 
and  left.  Batteries  had  been  planted  at  irregular  intervals 
upon  commanding  knolls.  In  the  northwest  could  be  heard  at 
times  the  low  rumble  of  cannon  firing  —  some  small  cavalry 
action,  perhaps,  away  off  toward  Aldie. 

The  positive  speech  which  Dr.  Khayme  had  just  uttered  did 
not  surprise  me,  either  by  its  manner  or  its  matter.  I  knew 
him  of  old ;  he  was  not  only  a  man  of  unerring  judgment,  but 
he  also  enjoyed,  in  some  mysterious  way,  unique  privileges  of 
communication  with  the  powers  that  were. 

"  I  leaned  my  musket  against  that  tree  there,"  said  I ;  "  there 
is  another  tree  almost  its  match  near  Dr.  Gaines's  house." 

"  When  did  you  lean  your  musket  against  that  tree  ?  " 

"July  twenty-first,  sixty-one.  Do  you  see  that  smoke  off 
yonder  in  the  southwest — about  six  or  seven  miles?  That 
is  just  about  the  place  where  that  old  musket  is  now  —  or 
rather  the  two  pieces  of  it." 

"  When  did  you  see  the  tree  at  Dr.  Gaines's  ?  " 

"  June  twenty-eighth,  last  year." 

"  In  the  battle  in  which  you  were  wounded  ?  " 

"  The  day  after  the  battle.     They  laid  me  under  the  tree." 


4  A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"When  you  saw  that  tree  at  Dr.  Gaines's,  you  did  not 
recall  this  one  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  of  course  not." 

"  Your  memory  will  never  suffer  lapse  again." 

"  I  know  it,  Doctor." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  answer  that  question,  but  I  know  it.  How  does 
the  mind  know  anything  ?  " 

"  The  fact  that  you  solved  the  past  unaided  is  proof  enough 
to  me,"  said  the  Doctor;  "you  had  great  will-power  and  exerted 
it  greatly.  If  you  had  not  done  so,  there  is  no  saying  when 
you  could  have  put  things  together.  You  had  only  one  thing 
to  hold  to." 

"That  is  exactly  what  Dr.  Frost  told  me  when  I  was  in 
his  hands.  He  said  that  unless  I  should  be  able  to  find  some 
one  who  knew  me,  the  getting  of  one  isolated  fact  would  be  of 
little  importance." 

"  He  was  right,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  that  surgeon  of  yours  is 
no  common  man,  I  judge.  I  am  sure  he  would  be  greatly  in- 
terested in  your  entire  history ;  I  should  be  glad  to  talk  with 
him  about  it." 

"  In  regard  to  the  workings  of  the  will,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  story  you  might  tell  of  dangers,  of  scouts,  of 
battles,  and  all  of  it,  would  doubtless  make  a  very  interesting 
chapter  of  personal  adventure,  and  your  ability  to  judge  impar- 
tially the  political  and  military  features  of  this  war  gives  your 
case  an  interest  of  yet  higher  order,  but  I  think  that  your  Dr. 
Frost  must  be  a  true  thinker  who  would  at  once  recognize 
the  meaning  of  your  experience  —  a  struggle  of  individual  will 
against  the  most  adverse  circumstances.  You  have  won.  Your 
case,  if  it  ever  becomes  known  to  the  world  —  and  I  think  it 
your  duty  to  tell  it  some  day  —  will  furnish  very  great  encour- 
agement to  every  man:  the  will  is  free,  Jones." 

Dark  clouds  were  rolling  up  from  the  south.  "We  shall 
have  a  shower,"  said  the  Doctor. 


DOCTOR   KHAYME  5 

"Yes,"  said  Lydia;  "and  I  must  get  back  to  Colonel  Paull," 
and  she  hurried  on  ahead  of  us. 

"  What  will  be  the  next  movement,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Lee  will  retreat  at  once,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Meade  will 
advance.  He  should  not  have  retreated ;  and  he  would  not 
have  done  so,  except  for  deference  to  the  views  of  the  adminis- 
tration." 

"  What !  He  should  not  have  retreated !  And  Lee  on  his 
flank ! " 

"  If  Meade  had  advanced  he  would  have  been  in  Lee's  rear, 
and  by  this  time  might  have  had  Richmond ;  but,  of  course, 
the  Washington  authorities  will  never  allow  the  capital  to  be 
uncovered,  and  Meade  could  not  do  otherwise  than  retire." 

"Doctor,  your  saying  that  General  Meade  should  not  have 
retreated  distresses  me." 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"You  told  me — I  remember  the  date  distinctly  —  it  was  on 
July  twenty -third,  sixty-one  —  that  it  would  be  given  me  to 
serve  the  country  in  a  remarkable  way.  I  have  been  trusting 
that  my  bringing  to  General  Meade  the  information  which 
decided  him  to  retreat  was  the  service  meant." 

"  And  what  then  ?  " 

"  If  he  should  not  have  retreated,  did  I  not  do  harm  ?  " 

"Not  at  all;  he  would  have  retreated  too  late,  but  for  the 
news  you  brought.  You  did  not  cause  him  to  retreat,  but  to 
retreat  in  time." 

I  felt  comforted.  "  Then  my  work  —  or  at  least  the  impor- 
tant work  which  you  foresaw  as  possible,  —  has  been  done, 
Doctor  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  seriously,  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then 
he  said :  "  You  have  done  what  few  could  have  done,  my  boy. 
But  your  having  brought  information  as  to  Lee's  march  seems 
a  small  service  compared  with  what  I  can  see  is  possible  to 
you  —  and  possible  to  no  other  man  !  " 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  Doctor  ?  "  I  asked  eagerly  and  fearfully. 


6  A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Particulars  are  worthless,"  said  he ;  "  and  I  cannot  foresee 
the  precise  line  of  your  work.  Your  present  powers  are  so 
great  that  I  can  see  many  things  as  possible  —  so  many  that 
among  them  all  I  refuse  to  select.  It  seems  to  me  that  you 
will  have  it  in  your  power  to  do  for  your  cause  —  for  the 
Union  —  as  great  a  work  as  you  have  recently  done  for  this 
army.  Try  to  be  content  with  this,  my  boy,  and  trust  in  the 
right." 

How  could  I  be  content  ?    I  was  long  silent. 

"  What  do  you  think  now,  Jones,  as  to  the  duration  of  the 
war  ?  "  he  asked,  no  doubt  wishing  to  divert  my  thought. 

"  I  think  the  Confederates  cannot  hold  out  always,"  said  I ; 
"  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  is  much  stronger  than  Lee's  army. " 

"  Yes ;  this  Bristoe  campaign  was  a  very  bold  thing  on  Lee's 
part,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  but  he  will  retreat  at  once.  He  can- 
not advance  without  a  battle  for  which  he  is  not  prepared  on 
this  ground,  and  he  is  already  too  far  from  his  base.  He  can 
do  nothing  but  retreat." 

"  I  remember  that,  last  year,  after  second  Manassas,  Captain 
Haskell  told  me  that  we  were  too  far  advanced  from  Richmond. 
We  were  over  yonder,  about  six  miles  from  this  spot." 

"  That  captain  of  yours  seems  to  have  had  great  influence 
over  you,  Jones." 

"  The  best  man  I  ever  knew,  to  be  a  soldier,"  said  I ;  "  when 
he  was  killed,  my  life  was  changed.  I  suppose  it  was  lack  of 
interest  in  my  surroundings  that  began  to  cause  me  to  feel 
interest  in  the  possibilities  of  other  surroundings." 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it, "  said  the  Doctor ;  "  when  the  mind 
loses  one  resource  it  gets  another." 

When  we  reached  the  Doctor's  camp  I  found  one  of  General 
Meade's  orderlies  waiting  for  me.  I  was  commanded  to  report 
at  once  to  the  general.  The  Doctor  said  to  me  aside,  "  Don't 
hesitate  to  confide  in  the  general ;  he  knows  enough  already  to 
justify  your  telling  him  everything." 


II 


AT   HEADQUARTERS,    A.    OP  P. 

*'  What  say  you  to't  ?  will  you  again  unknit 
This  churlish  knot  of  all-abhorred  war  ? 
And  move  in  that  obedient  orb  again, 
Where  you  did  give  a  fair  and  natural  light ; 
And  be  no  more  an  exhal'd  meteor, 
A  prodigy  of  fear,  and  a  portent 
Of  broached  mischief  .  .  .  ?"  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

GENERAL  MEADE  was  alone ;  he  admitted  me  at  once. 

"Berwick,"  said  he,  kindly,  "I  owe  you  a  good  deal.  I 
don't  want  you  to  believe  that  I  have  forgotten  you.  My  time 
has  been  very  full  since  you  came  to  me  on  the  Rappahannock." 

"  Yes,  General." 

"  From  what  Dr.  Khayme  tells  me,  you  must  have  been  in 
the  rebel  army  quite  a  while." 

"  Yes,  General ;  a  very  long  and  dreary  time." 

"  And  there  seems  something  mysterious  about  it,"  he  said. 
"Now,  all  I  can  exact  of  you  is  information  for  public  benefit. 
Your  private  reasons  for  joining  the  rebels  are  your  own,  but 
don't  allow  your  modesty  to  get  in  the  way.  I  want  to  ask  you 
about  some  things,  and  to-night  I  have  a  little  time." 

"  General,"  said  I,  "  this  is  a  very  embarrassing  matter.  Of 
my  own  motion  I  should  not  venture  to  burden  you  with  my 
confidence,  but  Dr.  Khayme  has  advised  me  to  do  so." 

"  I  would  not  suggest  it,  Berwick,  except  for  the  fact  that  it 
may  enable  me  to  judge  of  the  relative  importance  of  whatever 
you  can  tell  me  concerning  the  enemy." 

"  Then  I  am  in  your  hands,  General ;  I  will  keep  nothing  back." 

7 


8          A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"How  long  were  you  with  the  rebels? " 

"I  went  into  their  lines  on  June  third,  sixty -two,  sir." 

"  In  Confederate  uniform  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And you  pretended  to  serve  them  all  this  time?" 

"  General,  it  was  not  mere  pretence  on  my  part." 

"  Indeed !  Dr.  Khayme  hinted  at  mystery,  but  you  astonish 
me ;  upon  my  soul,  you  do.  You  lost  your —  ?  "  The  general 
had  been  going  to  say  "  mind,"  no  doubt,  but  checked  himself. 

"  Not  my  mind,  General,  but  my  memory." 

"  What !     Entirely  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  sir;  my  memory  of  the  events  of  a  few  years.  I 
had  suffered  such  lapses  before." 

"  You  went  into  the  rebel  lines,  and  then  lost  your  memory  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General." 

"  But  how  could  you  imagine  that  you  belonged  to  any  par- 
ticular Confederate  organization  ?  " 

"I  could  not,  General ;  at  first  I  was  unconscious." 

"  The  loss  of  your  memory  rendered  you  unconscious  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,  General.  I  had  gone  through  the  Confederate 
picket-line  on  the  Chickahominy  for  General  Morell,  and  was 
about  to  enter  the  main  line,  when  a  shell  from  one  of  our  own 
guns  knocked  me  senseless." 

"And  the  rebels  picked  you  up?  I  see;  of  course  they 
thought  nothing  strange.  But  how  did  they  decide  your  case  ? 
How  could  they  find  a  regiment  to  claim  you  ?  A  very  singu- 
lar situation,  Berwick  !  Upon  my  soul,  it  was ! " 

"As  it  happened,  General,  I  was  taken  while  still  uncon- 
scious to  the  field  hospital  of  the  First  South  Carolina  regi- 
ment. When  I  could  begin  to  talk,  the  surgeon  knew  that  my 
memory  was  gone ;  he  knew  it  before  I  knew  it.  He  saw  pal- 
metto 1  buttons  on  my  coat,  and  he  thought,  of  course,  that  I 
belonged  to  some  company  in  his  regiment." 

1  The  palmetto  tree  is  prominent  upon  the  coat-of-arms  of  South  Carolina. 


AT  HEADQUARTERS,   A.   OF  P.  9 

"But,  Berwick,  he  would  soon  find  out  that  you  did  not! " 

"Yes,  General;  that  is  exactly  what  happened.  Dr.  Frost 
soon  found  that  I  did  not  belong  to  his  regiment — nor  could 
any  other  regiment  claim  me  as  one  of  its  missing  men.  The 
adjutant  of  Gregg's  brigade  was  notified  of  my  case,  and  agreed 
that  I  should  be  attached  to  any  company  I  might  choose,  but 
only  temporarily  —  as  it  was  thought,  of  course,  that  my 
friends  would  find  me  sooner  or  later,  and  in  that  case  I  was 
to  be  remanded  to  my  proper  company." 

"  And  you  willingly  submitted  to  this  ?  You,  a  Northern 
man!" 

"  General,  I  was  educated  in  Charleston.  Dr.  Khayme  him- 
self was  one  of  my  teachers  there.  Now,  when  my  memory 
was  lost,  it  went  back  only  to  South  Carolina  before  the 
war,  and  I  knew  nothing  but  South  Carolina,  and  not  very 
much  of  that.  Besides,  I  could  not  doubt  that  in  my  normal 
condition  I  had  already  enlisted  as  a  Southern  soldier." 

The  general  looked  incredulous. 

"  General,"  said  I,  "  there  ought  to  exist  a  copy  of  an  order 
from  General  Grover  detailing  me  for  special  service.  There 
ought  to  exist  some  record  of  my  work  for  General  Morell  in 
regard  to  the  battle  of  Hanover  Court-House.  I  have  a  field- 
glass  which  once  was  General  Morell's ;  he  gave  it  to  me  as 
an  act  of  appreciation  for  service  I  had  done.  Dr.  Khayme 
kept  it  when  I  went  into  the  Confederate  lines,  fearing  that  it 
would  cause  suspicion.  I  can  furnish  abundant  proof  of  my 
having  lived  in  Charleston,  and  having  spent  much  time  in 
other  parts  of  South  Carolina.  There  need  be  no  doubt  of  my 
statement,  unless  it  be  doubt  of  the  fact  that  the  mind  may 
suffer  loss  of  memory." 

"  What  you  are  telling  me  is  very  strange,  Berwick.  Does 
Dr.  Khayme  know  all  that  you  are  telling  me  ?  " 

"  He  knows  more  about  it  than  I  do,  General.  Dr.  Khayme 
certainly  knew,  on  the  night  of  June  second,  when  General 
Morell  ordered  me  to  go  into  the  Confederate  lines,  that  my 


10         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

mind  was  then  in  a  peculiar  state.  He  provided  a  safeguard 
for  me  which  I  could  not  then  see  through." 

"  What  sort  of  safeguard  ?  " 

"He  made  me  write  in  a  diary,  as  a  Confederate  soldier. 
I  will  show  it  to  you ;  here  it  is,  General." 

The  general  took  the  little  book,  in  which  several  dates  had 
been  filled  by  me,  at  Dr.  Khayme's  dictation,  with  events 
occurring  on  a  march  of  Confederate  troops. 

"  I  see  B.  Jones  written  here,"  said  he,  at  last. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  my  name  is  Jones  Berwick.  I  was  called  Ber- 
wick Jones  by  the  Confederates  —  or  simply  Jones.  I  knew 
better,  but  the  surgeon  thought  that  my  mind  had  tricked  me, 
and  I  had  to  go  by  the  name  of  Jones." 

"  But  why  did  not  the  Doctor  make  you  write  the  name  of 
some  regiment  under  this  signature  ?  " 

"  What  regiment,  General  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  see ;  if  they  had  found  the  name  of  a  regiment,  you 
would  have  been  suspected,  as  the  regiment  would  not  own  you ! " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  regiment  would  have  disclaimed  me  at  once." 

"I  see." 

"  And  then,  too,  General,  the  Doctor  knew  the  fate  of  a  spy 
caught  within  the  enemy's  lines." 

"  I  see.  Upon  my  soul,  that  Doctor  is  a  clever  man ;  and 
not  only  a  clever  man  but — "  he  shook  his  head  mean- 
ingly. "But  why  change  your  name?  What's  the  good  of 
the  Jones  ?  " 

"Jones  is  very  common,  sir,  as  a  surname,  and  the  Doctor 
might  well  hope  that  it  would  attract  no  suspicion.  Then, 
Berwick  is  not  an  unknown  name  in  Charleston,  and,  as  the 
sequel  proved,  I  was  thrown  into  a  regiment  which  had  three 
companies  in  it  from  Charleston.  Jones  Berwick  might  have 
been  recognized,  by  name  at  least,  as  the  son  of  a  Northern 
man." 

"  I  see ;  upon  my  soul,  that  Doctor  is  wonderful.  And  no- 
body from  Charleston  recognized  you  ?  " 


AT  HEADQUARTERS,   A.   OF  P.  11 

"  No,  sir ;  and  I  recognized  nobody,  though  I  now  know  that 
in  Company  L  there  were  men  with  whom  I  had  gone  to 
school." 

"  Company  L  ?     How  many  companies  in  that  regiment  ?  " 

"  Only  ten,  sir.     We  had  no  Company  D." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  There  was  a  Company  D,  sir,  at  first,  but  it  became  Mcln- 
tosh's  battery,  and  another  company  was  put  into  the  regi- 
ment, and  was  called  Company  L." 

"I  know  that  battery.  That  was  my  old  brigade  which 
broke  yours  at  Fredericksburg,  when  your  General  Gregg  was 
killed.  Were  you  in  Company  L  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  —  Company  H ;  and  Company  A  of  the  sharp- 
shooters." 

"  What  sharp-shooters  ?  " 

"The  battalion  of  sharp-shooters  formed  in  McGowan's 
brigade." 

"  Ah  !     Lee  has  that  system  ?  " 

"  General  Fender  had  a  battalion  formed  for  every  brigade 
in  his  division.  After  his  death,  General,  the  battalions  were 
dissolved,  and  the  men  went  back  to  their  regiments.  But 
they  are  to  be  reorganized  this  winter,  when  no  campaign  is 
going  on,  and  put  in  better  shape  than  ever." 

"  What  is  the  plan  ?  " 

"  Two  or  three  men  are  detailed  from  each  company,  making 
a  hundred,  or  a  hundred  and  twenty  from  the  brigade.  These 
men  are  formed  into  three  companies,  under  officers  noted  for 
qualities  that  fit  them  for  work  at  the  front.  The  battalions 
do  all  the  skirmishing  —  at  least  while  their  strength  lasts  — 
for  the  brigades." 

The  general  wrote  some  words  on  a  sheet  of  paper  at  his  elbow. 

"  How  long  did  you  serve  in  that  battalion,  Berwick  ?  " 

"  It  was  organized  just  after  Chancellorsville,  General,  and 
was  dissolved  in  September.  I  went  through  the  Gettysburg 
campaign  in  the  battalion." 


12         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  How  were  you  armed  ?  " 

"  We  had  Enfield  rifles,  General ;  almost  every  man  in  Lee's 
infantry  has  an  Enfield." 

"  Is  there  not  a  body  of  men  armed  with  Whitworths  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  there  are  only  twenty  such  rifles  in  Lee's  army." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  A  general  order  was  published  concerning  their  distribu- 
tion. They  were  assigned  to  peculiar  men,  who  act  indepen- 
dently. Ben  Powell,  of  our  brigade,  has  one." 

"  You  say  '  our '  brigade,"  said  he,  smiling.  His  doubts  had 
gone,  I  thought. 

"  Force  of  habit,  General." 

"Admit  no  one,"  said  General  Meade,  speaking  to  an 
orderly,  whose  face  had  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Can  you  give  me  other  information  as  to  the  arms  of  the 
rebels  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  I  can  now  think  of,  General.  The 
most  of  the  men  will  not  keep  their  bayonets." 

"Why  not?" 

"  They  say  they  are  burdensome,  without  sufficient  advan- 
tage to  offset  the  burden.  In  the  early  battles  the  men  were 
poorly  armed,  and  whenever  possible  each  man  picked  up  a 
better  gun  —  he  did  not  care  whether  his  bayonet  fitted  the 
new  gun  or  not.  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  General,  that  there 
is  beginning  to  be  a  tendency  now  among  the  men  to  hold  to 
their  bayonets  ;  one  of  the  brigade  commanders  of  our  division 
makes  a  great  effort  to  compel  the  men." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  General  Lane." 

"  How  does  he  compel  them  ?  " 

"  He  refuses  to  grant  any  privilege,  such  as  a  pass  or  a  fur- 
lough, to  a  man  who  has  no  bayonet.  Any  written  applica- 
tion coming  to  him  from  below,  must  bear  the  statement  of  the 
officer  in  command  of  the  applicant's  company  that  the  man 
has  his  bayonet.  After  a  battle  General  Lane  has  all  the  bay- 


AT  HEADQUARTERS,   A.   OF  P.  13 

onets  picked  up  as  far  as  possible,  and  a  fitting  match  goes  on 
among  the  men.  Lane's  brigade  is  beginning  to  influence 
others." 

General  Meade  again  wrote  some  words. 

"I  was  led  to  believe,  from  what  Dr.  Khayme  told  me, 
that  your  memory  was  remarkably  good,"  said  he ;  "  at  least 
I  understood  that  it  could  be  depended  on." 

"  That  is  true,  General." 

"  Yet  the  tale  you  are  now  telling  me  seems  to  contradict 
it." 

"My  memory  will  never  suffer  lapse  again,  General,  and 
my  case  is  doubly  peculiar  in  the  fact  that  I  can  now  recall 
perfectly  everything  that  I  saw  and  heard  while  in  Lee's 
army." 

"  More  mystery,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head,  yet  smiling. 

"  General,  I  cannot  understand  it,  but  it  is  true." 

"How  do  you  know  that  you  will  never  lose  yourself 
again  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  how  I  know  it,  General.  I  might  say, 
however,  that  there  is  an  entire  absence  from  my  mind  of  a 
peculiar  feeling  that  I  was  formerly  always  conscious  of. 
Dr.  Khayme  also  asserts  that  I  shall  never  suffer  again,  and 
he  declares  that  my  power  to  remember  now  is  compensation 
for  my  former  loss." 

"  Have  you  let  anybody  know  of  your  return  ?  " 

"  No,  General ;  I  received  your  order." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  report  to  your  company  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  it  would  be  torture  to  be  gazed  at ;  besides,  I  trust 
you  are  going  to  allow  me  to  serve  the  cause  in  some  way  that 
will  not  compel  me  to  take  the  life  of  my  former  friends." 

"Yes;  I  have  consented  to  Dr.  Khayme's  request,  and  I 
think,  Berwick,  that  you  and  I  can  play  a  bigger  game  than 
the  gunpowder  game,  so  far  as  your  services  are  concerned." 

"  General,"  I  said,  "  you  are  very  good." 

"  I  can  exchange  you  as  a  prisoner  of  war ;  you  can  go  back 


x!4         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

and  serve  in  your  Company  H,  and  constantly  be  of  great  help 
to  us." 

The  thing  was  feasible.  I  had  thought  of  it,  myself.  I 
had  been  missing  from  the  First  South  Carolina  but  a  few 
days.  To  return  after  a  while  as  an  exchanged  prisoner, 
would  not  astonish  anybody. 

"Or,  if  you  prefer,"  added  the  general,  "you  may  escape. 
In  that  case  you  can  get  back  at  once.  If  you  are  to  be  ex- 
changed, time  will  be  lost ;  exchanges  are  not  made  suddenly 
nowadays." 

"  General,"  said  I,  "  the  life  would  be  too  painful.  It  would 
be  a  life  of  continual  hypocrisy,  and  I  doubt,  too,  if  I  could 
serve  you  better  in  that  way." 

"  All  right,  Berwick.     Do  as  you  choose  about  it." 

"  I  am  willing  to  work,  General,  and  at  once." 

"  Before  I  give  you  any  particular  work  to  do,"  said  he,  "  I 
shall  provide  for  your  standing." 

He  wrote  a  few  lines  and  handed  me  the  following  order :  — 

"  HEADQUARTERS  ARMY  OP  THE  POTOMAC, 

"October  17,  1863. 
"SPECIAL  ORDER. 

"Private  J.  Berwick,  Co.  D,  llth  Mass.  Vols.  is  hereby  relieved  from 
further  duty  with  his  company.  All  pickets  will  pass  him. 

"Gso.  G.  MEADE,  Major  General  Commanding.'1'' 

"Now,  Berwick,"  said  the  general,  "you  may  leave  me;  I 
will  send  for  you  again  shortly.  I  have  many  questions  to  ask 
you,  if  I  can  ever  get  the  time ;  but,  upon  my  soul,  I  don't  see 
how  I'm  to  get  it.  Wait.  What  do  you  think  of  Lee's  army 
—  its  morale  ?  " 

"As  good  as  ever, "General." 

"  Did  it  suffer  after  Gettysburg  ?  " 

"I  did  not  see  any  demoralization,  General.  Of  course 
Pickett's  division  and  some  others  may  have  weakened,  but  I 
don't  think  so." 


AT  HEADQUARTERS,  A.   OF  P.  15 

"  And  the  rebels  will  fight  as  well  as  ever  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General." 

"  You  may  go  now.  No,  don't  go  yet.  Your  view  of  the 
spirit  of  Lee's  army  is  singular,  do  you  know?" 

"  How  so,  General  ?  " 

"  It  is  commonly  believed  that  the  men  are  no  longer  hope- 
ful." 

"  That  is  not  entirely  true,  General.  They  are  not  so  hope- 
ful as  they  were  when  they  advanced  into  Pennsylvania,  but 
they  are  just  as  ready  to  fight  as  ever.  Gettysburg  did  not 
destroy  their  hopes.  I  must  say  that  Vicksburg  made  many 
of  them  gloomy  for  a  time,  but  Chickamauga  has  fully  restored 
them." 

I  supposed  that  the  general  would  have  preferred  to  hear 
me  say  that  Gettysburg  had  weakened  the  morale  of  Lee's 
army,  but  I  could  not  say  it  truthfully,  and  surely  he  wanted 
the  truth ;  so  I  was  somewhat  surprised  when  he  said  gayly :  — 

"  You  are  right,  Berwick.  It  would  have  been  folly  to  attack 
Lee  at  Hagerstown." 

"  I  was  in  the  lines  at  Hagerstown,  General,  and  I  saw  noth- 
ing but  willingness  to  receive  an  attack." 

The  general  smiled.  Inadvertently  and  ignorantly  I  had 
made  a  great  advance  with  him  —  that  is,  of  course,  a  great 
advance  for  a  common  soldier  to  make  with  a  general.  I  saw 
that  he  was  pleased,  but  I  did  not  understand. 

"  Then  you  think  the  rebels  are  as  strong  as  ever  ?  " 

"  No,  General,  I  do  not.  The  long  war  is  telling  on  them. 
The  recruits  furnished  to  the  regiments  are  greatly  mixed; 
some  of  them,  no  doubt,  are  good  men,  and  will  become  as  good 
soldiers  as  the  old  men,  but  some  are  almost  worthless." 

"  What  proportion  are  good  men  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  half,  judging  from  those  received  by  our  regiment 
—  I  mean  the  First  South  Carolina,"  I  added  hastily,  seeing 
the  general's  repeated  smile. 

"  And  half  are  so  bad  that  you  call  them  worthless  ?  " 


16         A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"According  to  my  observation,  General,  some  soldiers  are 
worse  than  worthless;  they  do  nothing  but  weaken  good 
men." 

"How  many  such  men  are  now  in  the  company  to  which 
you  were  attached  ?  " 

"  Four  or  five  only,  sir." 

"  And  you  think  similar  material  has  been  sent  to  the  other 
companies  —  and  to  other  regiments  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Have  you  any  opinion  as  to  the  general  condition  of  the 
South  ?  Is  it  not  getting  tired  of  the  war  ?  " 

"  Naturally  so,  General,  especially  in  some  sections.  South- 
east Mississippi  is  almost  in  a  state  of  revolt.  I  hear  that 
Jones  County  has  seceded  from  the  Confederate  States ! " l 

The  general  chuckled.  " That's  a  good  one,"  said  he ;  "I 
guess  Jones  has  recovered  its  memory !  You  Joneses  seem 
to  get  all  right,  if  you  just  get  time  enough ! "  And  General 
Meade  again  chuckled  at  his  joke. 

"  And  some  of  the  mountains  in  North  Carolina  are  held  by 
armed  men  who  resist  the  conscription — organized  bodies  of 
them,  I  am  told." 

"Were  your  rations  regular ? " 

"Generally  so,  sir,  in  camp.  Of  course  on  long  marches 
and  in  close  places  we  suffered  a  good  deal.  The  pay  is 
very  irregular,  sir.  The  Confederate  States  now  owes  me  for 
four  months." 

"By  the  bye,"  said  the  general;  "the  United  States  owes 
you  more  than  that.  But  I  don't  see  how  you  can  claim  it 
unless  you  go  back  to  your  company." 

1  From  Raymond,  Mississippi,  Gazette,  of  January  10, 1896. 

"...  Believing  that  if  Mississippi  had  the  right  to  withdraw  from  the 
Union,  Jones  County  had  a  right  to  secede  from  Mississippi,  there  was  a  coup 
d'etat,  and  the  territory,  twenty-four  miles  square,  known  as  the  county  of 
Jones,  was  declared  to  be  independent  under  the  name  and  title  of  The  Free 
State  of  Jones."  [ED.] 


AT  HEADQUARTERS,   A.   OF  P.  17 

"  Then,  General,  I'll  make  the  United  States  a  present  of  it," 
said  I. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  arrange  it,"  said  he ;  "  if  not  in  one  way, 
then  in  another ;  you  understand  that  you  belong  to  my  house- 
hold hereafter,  though  you  will  be  much  with  Dr.  Khayme, 
in  order  to  serve  our  purposes  better,  for  everybody  must  not 
know  your  doings.  Did  General  Lee's  reputation  suffer  in 
consequence  of  Gettysburg?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  am  sure  that  with  the  people  it  did.  Yet  his 
men  love  him  better  than  ever." 

"  Through  sympathy,  you  mean  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  and  their  confidence  in  him  is  unshaken.  They 
believe  that  hereafter  he  will  take  care  of  them." 

"  Can  you  give  me  any  notion  of  the  average  strength  of  a 
regiment  in  Lee's  army  ?  " 

"  They  vary  too  much,  General ;  yet  to  hazard  a  guess,  I 
should  say  that  three  hundred  rifles  is  now  a  good  regiment  — 
perhaps  bigger  than  the  average." 

"  And  its  original  strength  was  a  thousand  or  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  the  condition  of  Lee's  cavalry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  from  common  talk  I  do.  It  has  lost  greatly  in 
efficiency.  The  horses  are  broken  down.  The  men  purchase 
their  own  horses,  and  the  government  pays  for  their  use ;  with 
such  an  arrangement  the  result  is  poor  horses,  for  the  men  are 
reluctant  to  buy  a  costly  horse." 

General  Meade  wrote  again  on  the  sheet  at  his  elbow. 

"  Do  you  know  Richmond  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well?" 

"No,  General;  not  well.  I  went  over  Richmond  a  few 
days  after  I  joined  the  Confederates.  Then,  again,  I  saw 
something  of  it  afterward.  I  was  an  inmate  of  one  of  the 
hospitals  in  the  city  for  nearly  two  months." 

"  Sick  ?  " 


18         A  FRIEND   WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"No,  sir;  wounded.  I  was  hit  at  Gaines's  Mill.  Of  course 
I  could  not  see  much  of  Richmond  from  the  hospital,  but  when 
I  could  hobble  about  I  went  over  the  central  part  a  good  deal. 
Then,  after  Fredericksburg,  I  was  in  a  hospital  in  the  outskirts 
of  Richmond  for  eight  weeks.  I  was  sick  at  that  time." 

"  And  you  remember  what  you  saw  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  remember  the  ground  you  marched  over  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  Berwick,  I  shall  deprive  the  Eleventh  Massachusetts 
of  your  help  hereafter.  You  must  not  get  shot  any  more." 

"  Nor  shoot  anybody,  I  hope,  General." 

"  I  understand  —  but,"  said  the  general,  "  I  cannot  yet  see, 
upon  my  soul  I  cannot,  why  you  should  have  consented  to  the 
views  of  the  secessionists." 

"Why,  you  see,  sir,  I  had  lived  in  South  Carolina  from 
fifty-nine  until  a  very  short  time  before  she  seceded,  and 
had  heard  frequent  discussions  of  the  subject  of  State's  rights 
—  almost  always  one-sided  discussions,  if  the  expression  is 
allowable  —  or  if  two  sided  the  Union  side  was  weak,  and  my 
memory  served  me  so  peculiarly  that  it  retained  always  the 
stronger  argument." 

"That  is  strange,"  said  he,  "yet  not  altogether  anomalous; 
I  have  heard  men  say  that  what  they  want  to  forget  is  just 
what  their  memory  persists  in  bringing  up." 

The  general  called  an  orderly 

"Watson,  this  is  our  friend  Berwick;  he  will  report  here 
frequently.  Ask  Captain  Scranton  to  come." 

Watson  saluted,  and  retired. 

"General,"  I  begged,  "please  give  no  hint  of  my  former 
experience  to  any  one ! " 

"  Of  course  not,  Berwick  ;  I  know  how  to  protect  you." 

A  red-bearded  officer  —  tall  and  handsome  —  entered  and 
saluted. 

"Captain,  this  is  Mr.  Berwick  of  the  Eleventh  Massachu- 


AT   HEADQUARTERS,   A.   OF  P.  19 

setts.  I  confide  to  you  the  fact  that  I  have  taken  him  away 
from  his  regiment ;  hereafter  he  is  to  be  with  us.  He  has  my 
written  authority  to  pass  everywhere;  you  are  authorized  to 
facilitate  his  work.  Good  evening,  Captain." 

Captain  Scranton  saluted  and  retired.  Then  the  general 
said :  — 

"  Captain  Scranton  is  a  volunteer  aide  on  my  staff.  You  will 
find  him  a  man  of  resources,  and  a  wonderfully  pleasant  com- 
panion if  you  can  succeed  with  him,  but  I  warn  you  that  he  is 
a  most  peculiar  bird,  and  it  won't  do  to  rumple  his  feathers. 
Berwick,  you  may  go ;  all  you  need  to  do  now  is  to  do  nothing 
until  I  send  Watson  for  you." 

At  the  Sanitary  Camp  I  asked  Dr.  Khayme  what  General 
Meade  had  in  his  mind  when  he  received  so  cheerfully  my  view 
that  Gettysburg  had  not  demoralized  Lee's  army. 

"  General  Meade,"  said  he,  "  was  greatly  criticised  by  many 
newspaper  people  for  not  destroying  Lee's  army.  The  admin- 
istration, too,  was  greatly  displeased;  some  members  of  the 
President's  cabinet  were  loud  in  their  complaints  against  the 
general.  He  contended,  however,  that  to  attack  would  entail 
a  useless  sacrifice,  and  that  the  result  would  be  disaster. 
Therefore,  he  was  pleased  when  you  spoke  as  you  did,  for  he 
knew  that  you  were  telling  the  truth." 

"  Doctor,  can  you  tell  me  what  it  is  that  I  am  to  do  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  sympathetically. 

Then  he  shook  his  head. 


Ill 

SCOUTING   WITH   SHAKESPEARE 

"  Good  at  a  fight,  but  better  at  a  play."  —  MOORE. 

IF  there  is  any  condition  in  life  which  might  truly  be  called 
happiness  I  for  one  have  never  found  it.  There  is  always  some- 
thing to  distress  you,  no  matter  how  greatly  your  condition  may 
have  been  bettered.  One  might  think  that  a  ragged  rebel,  sud- 
denly converted  into  a  friend — however  humble  —  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  a  mental  vagrant 
given  back  to  friends,  and  with  love  added,  should  have  been 
happy  —  but  I  know  that  constant  joy  cannot  be  our  condition 
here  below.  I  had  much  to  grieve  for.  Dr.  Khayme  had 
gently  given  me  to  know  that  my  dear  father  had  suddenly 
died  on  the  day  preceding  that  of  my  leaving  the  Union  army 
to  penetrate  the  Confederate  lines  on  the  Chickahominy,  that 
is  to  say,  on  June  2,  1862.  He  had  been  a  good  father,  and 
I  mourned  his  loss  deeply ;  in  my  grief,  however,  there  was  no 
bitterness ;  I  thanked  God  that  death  had  not  come  in  conse- 
quence of  my  misfortune  or  fault ;  he  had  gone  from  me  when 
I  had  gone,  and  he  had  not  suffered  the  agony  of  suspense 
that  would  have  been  inevitable  had  he  known  of  my  dis- 
appearance. 

My  father's  death  was  not  all ;  old  comrades  of  the  Eleventh, 
old  playmates  of  my  childhood,  had  found  bloody  graves  on 
fields  where  I  had  fought  against  them  ;  at  second  Bull  Run, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  I  had  fought  hand-to-hand  with  men 
of  the  Eleventh  —  one  of  whom  certainly  recognized  me. 

What  is  past  is  past. 

20 


SCOUTING  WITH   SHAKESPEARE  21 

Lydia  was  to  become  my  wife.  Necessarily,  the  marriage 
would  not  take  place  while  the  war  lasted.  My  father's 
estate  —  much  diminished  I  had  learned  —  was  in  the  hands 
of  executors  who  had  been  his  life-long  friends.  My  desire 
to  remain  with  Lydia,  therefore,  kept  me  with  the  army ; 
although  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  get  a  furlough,  there 
was  nothing  to  require  my  presence  at  home,  and  I  shrank 
from  the  peculiar  publicity  which  I  knew  must  attend  me 
should  I  now  return  to  my  friends  in  the  North,  who  had  been 
apprised  in  some  degree  of  my  past  and  who  would  be  doubly 
curious. 

On  the  evening  of  the  18th,  Captain  Scran  ton  came  to  me 
from  General  Meade,  accompanied  by  his  servant,  who  was 
leading  an  extra  horse.  I  was  directed  to  report  at  once  to 
the  general  for  the  purpose  of  serving  as  guide  to  a  scouting 
party.  Rain  was  falling  heavily;  I  threw  on  my  overcoat  and 
gum-blanket,  bade  good-by  to  Lydia  and  the  Doctor,  and  rode 
off  with  the  captain. 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  where  are  your  arms  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  need  any,"  said  I. 

He  whistled  long  and  loud. 

" '  On  what  submissive  message  art  thou  sent  ? ' "  he  quoted. 

"What  does  General  Meade  want  me  to  find  out,  Captain?" 

"  Ask  General  Meade,"  said  he. 

"  Then  you  are  not  going  with  us  ?  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  my 
first  question  should  not  have  been  asked." 

"  No  harm  done,"  he  replied,  in  a  tone  that  showed  soften- 
ing—  adding,  as  if  to  himself,  "'Many  thousand  reasons  hold 
me  back. ' " 

I  felt  rebuffed,  and  dropped  behind  with  the  captain's  ser- 
vant. The  man  was  a  foreigner,  but  of  what  particular  coun- 
try I  could  not  tell  from  his  features.  Small  of  stature,  dark, 
lean,  wiry,  with  a  black  mustache  twisted  at  the  ends,  and 
small  side-whiskers,  he  might  be  French,  Italian,  Austrian,  or 
Swiss  —  most  likely  Swiss. 


22 

"  Misser  Bairveek,"  he  said,  u  de  capitan  ees  not  glad." 

"  No,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  am  to  blame." 

"  Not  so,"  he  responded ;  "  he  now  be  trouble  because  at  de 
scrape  de  army  ees." 

"Indeed!"  said  I,  sharply  —  somehow  the  fellow's  lingo 
irritated  me. 

"  Misser  Bairveek,  ees  not  dees  de  vorst  you  ever  bevore  see 
de  army  ov  de  Powtamaque  fall  in  two  ?  " 

"  I  think  she'll  get  out  right  enough,"  I  answered. 

"  Dees  ees  like  not  de  Getteesburg.  Eef  de  army  be  in  com- 
mand ov  a  Stonevall  Zhackson!  Dat  ees  vot  I  say,  Misser 
Bairveek." 

I  was  a  little  surprised  at  this  speech;  I  wondered  if  the 
servant  was  echoing  the  master.  There  were  many  people  who 
did  not  consider  Meade  a  Napoleon,  but  for  one  of  his  own 
staff  to  allow  his  servant  to  criticise  seemed  wrong  —  entirely 
wrong. 

"I  think,  sir,"  said  I,  somewhat  sternly,  "that  General 
Meade  has  not  yet  been  defeated." 

The  man  started  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow,  and  said  no 
more. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  we  reached  headquarters.  Before 
General  Meade's  tent  five  cavalrymen,  booted  and  spurred, 
were  standing  about,  bridle  in  hand.  The  captain  at  once 
entered,  bidding  me  to  follow.  General  Meade  seemed  ab- 
sorbed in  a  map  spread  before  him.  No  one  had  been  with 
him  except  Watson,  his  orderly. 

"  Berwick,"  said  the  general,  "  I  want  you  to  find  out  whether 
Lee's  infantry  is  in  our  front." 

The  general's  tones  were  harsh ;  he  looked  annoyed  —  even 
angry. 

"  It  is  retreating,  General,"  said  I,  boldly. 

"  Upon  my  soul !    How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"I  simply  give  General  Lee  credit  for  having  good  sense, 
General." 


SCOUTING  WITH   SHAKESPEARE  23 

A  shade  of  a  smile  passed  over  his  face.  "  But  we  have  con- 
tradictory reports.  Rebel  infantry  were  on  our  right  yesterday, 
and  last  night ;  the  report  comes  from  a  man  as  big  as  General 
Sedgwick." 

"  Well,  General,  I  engage  to  satisfy  you  in  three  hours  that 
the  Confederates  are  preparing  to  leave,  if  they  have  not  already 
gone." 

Now,  what  made  me  sure  of  being  able  to  accomplish  a  work 
which  seemed  difficult,  and  caiised  me  to  make  a  promise  that 
seems  boastful,  was  not  indeed  my  belief  that  General  Lee 
would  do  the  right  thing.  I  knew  from  sad  experience  the 
straitened  condition  of  the  Southern  army ;  I  knew  that  this 
condition  had  been,  more  than  once  before,  justification  for 
movements  made  contrary  to  the  rules  of  the  military  art  as 
they  are  written  in  the  books ;  for  General  Lee,  at  this  time, 
to  swing  to  the  flank  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  would  be 
not  more  audacious  than  was  his  dividing  his  forces  at  Chan- 
cellorsville ;  my  assurance  came  from  absolute  confidence 
in  Dr.  Khayme's  foresight.  "Lee  will  retreat  at  once,"  he 
had  said. 

"  Then,"  said  the  general,  "  get  about  the  work  without  delay. 
Here,  Watson!  Call  those  men  in!  No;  wait.  Captain 
Scranton,  be  good  enough  to  see  for  me  that  all  arrangements 
are  perfect,  and  go  with  the  party  to  the  front.  Examine  the 
map,  Berwick." 

"  No,  General ;  I  have  no  need  for  a  map  of  this  ground.  I 
have  a  better  one  in  my  head,  sir." 

So  the  captain  did  go  with  us,  after  all.  Scranton  took 
Scherzer,  his  servant,  aside,  and  seemed  to  be  giving  him  some 
instructions ;  the  man  went  off  —  to  his  quarters,  no  doubt. 

The  squad  mounted  silently  and  looked  ready  for  orders. 

" '  Make  known  which  way  thou  travellest,' "  said  the  cap- 
tain ;  adding,  "  We  obey  your  commands,  Mr.  Berwick." 

I  directed  the  men  to  ride  in  single  file  behind  me.  The 
night  was  dark,  and  it  was  yet  raining,  but  I  knew  the  roads 


24         A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

well ;  even  the  fields  and  woods  were  known  to  me,  and  I  had 
no  hesitation  in  going  forward  rapidly. 

At  our  advanced  infantry  posts  on  the  Manassas  road  we 
were  halted.  We  were  now  only  three  miles  from  army  head- 
quarters. Captain  Scranton  gave  proof  of  our  mission,  and  we 
rode  on  rapidly  toward  Bull  Run.  The  rain  was  falling  thick 
and  fast,  heavily  enough  to  cause  me  to  believe  the  fury  of  the 
storm  was  now  being  spent.  I  halted  the  party. 

"  Who  has  the  best  horse  ?  " 

"  I,  sir,"  replied  two  men  at  once. 

"  One  of  you  —  here,  you  if  you  please  —  remain  in  this  spot 
to  carry  the  first  report  to  the  general." 

We  went  on  and  crossed  —  fording ;  the  water  rose  to  our 
saddle  skirts.  The  noise  of  the  rushing  stream  and  of  the  fall- 
ing rain  drowned  that  of  our  own  splashing.  On  the  southern 
bank  I  paused  again.  Putting  my  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
second  man,  "  What  is  your  name  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Holcomb,  sir." 

"Remain  here.  Take  notice  all,  that  we  are  distributing  the 
party  as  relays.  One  will  ride  to  the  next,  and  so  on." 

A  mile  more,  and  Stephenson  was  stationed  in  the  road. 
This  reduced  the  advance  to  four:  two  men,  the  captain, 
and  I. 

Said  he,  "  We  must  be  near  Manassas." 

"Two  miles,"  I  replied. 

The  rain  had  ceased.  We  had  spent  three-quarters  of  an 
hour;  I  urged  forward  faster,  keeping  in  the  middle  of  the 
road ;  the  captain  was  at  my  side  —  the  two  men  in  the  rear. 

"  But  do  you  observe  no  caution  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night,  Captain ;  the  rebels  have  gone." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Look  behind  you." 

In  the  rear  the  heavens  were  red  with  the  reflection  of 
camp-fires. 

" '  I  throw  a  northward  look,'  "  he  quoted. 


SCOUTING  WITH   SHAKESPEARE  25 

"  Now  look  before  you." 

"  '  Look  with  thine  ears,' "  he  responded. 

All  was  darkness  in  the  south. 

Another  man  was  posted.  We  pushed  on  down  the  road ; 
the  stars  were  out,  and  the  setting  moon. 

"  Halt !  "  I  whispered,  reining  up  sharply. 

Strange  objects  were  at  the  roadside.  I  had  not  seen  them 
there  before.  On  this  spot  I  had  lain  down  weary  at  daylight 
on  the  morning  of  August  28,  1862,  while  the  sky  in  the  south 
glowed  with  Manassas  in  flames.  Here  I  had  eaten  and  rested. 
The  spot  —  the  old  spot  —  was  before  my  memory  in  the  vivid 
freshness  of  that  summer  morning ;  then  a  grassy  spot  though 
covered  with  the  dust  of  scorching  August,  now  a  spot  littered 
with  the  remains  of  a  hurried  bivouac. 

"  Hurrah  !  "  I  said ;  "  nothing  but  cavalry ;  push  on." 

"Cavalry  the  devil,"  grumbled  the  captain  between  his 
teeth ;  "  as  if  cavalry  was  nothing ! "  He  had  forgotten  to 
quote. 

We  reached  the  junction  of  the  road  from  Blackburn's,  a 
mile  or  a  little  more  from  Manassas,  and  paused. 

"  Captain,"  said  I,  "  are  you  convinced  ?  " 

Before  us  stretched  a  plain  on  which  there  was  scarce  a  tree 
or  an  elevation  —  a  country  devastated  by  two  armies  in  more 
than  three  campaigns  and  innumerable  ravagings. 

"  Berwick,"  said  he,  "  how  in  the  hell  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Are  there  any  of  Lee's  infantry  left  in  ten  miles  of  us  ?  " 

"Not  a  lost  soul." 

We  stationed  Goodman  at  the  fork. 

"Warren  ought  to  be  at  Blackburn's  Ford  by  this  time," 
said  the  captain ;  "  and  I  hope  Gibbs's  cavalry  regiment  is  yet 
at  the  Junction,  but  we'd  better  go  slow.  '  Thou  stand'st  where 
snares  of  war  may  tangle  thee.' " 

The  three  rode  on,  diverging  toward  the  right.  Whether 
Federals  were  now  at  Manassas  I  cared  little.  Broad  Run  was 
my  object.  Lee's  infantry  must  be  behind  Broad  Run,  or  else 


26         A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

behind  the  Rappahannock.  We  passed  Manassas  a  mile  at  our 
left  and  kept  on.  We  reached  the  top  of  a  high  hill,  from 
which  the  horizon  in  the  south  seemed  ten  miles  distant. 

"  Kimball,"  said  the  captain ;  "  ride  back  at  once  and  send 
word  to  General  Medde  that  Lee's  infantry  have  sailed  for 
France ! " 

The  horse-hoofs  smote  the  ground  in  our  rear.  The  captain 
and  I  were  alone.  We  rode  on,  side  by  side,  in  the  darkness. 

"  Have  a  cigar,"  he  said. 

"  And  let  the  ashes  grow,  or  a  bullet  may  come  our  way,"  I 
replied. 

It  was  a  good  one.  I  was  only  a  private ;  to  all  seeming  the 
captain  had  become  very  friendly.  He  continued  to  quote 
Shakespeare.  In  a  hollow  we  came  to  a  recently  deserted  cav- 
alry camp.  I  dismounted.  I  knew,  somehow,  that  it  had  been 
a  bivouac  of  the  Confederates,  but  I  wanted  to  make  the  cap- 
tain know  it.  I  picked  up  two  small  objects  lying  by  one  of 
the  sodden  camp-fires  and  remounted. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Confederates." 

" '  And  what  accites  your  most  worshipful  thought,  to  think 
so  ?  > " 

"  Strike  a  match,  please." 

He  did  as  I  said,  and  I  held  near  the  blaze  a  small  piece  of 
thoroughly  soaked  newspaper. 

All  that  was  legible  was : 

of 

repor 

General  Le 

invaders.     Sou 

independence  are 

to  be  abandoned  no  mat 

"  Were  they  not  Confederates  ?  " 
" { I  think  so,  truly,  noble  Roman.'  " 


SCOUTING  WITH   SHAKESPEARE  27 

«  And  look  at  this." 

It  was  a  bit  of  hoe-cake  made  of  Indian  meal.  The  captain 
smelt  of  it,  and  threw  it  down. 

"Now,  Captain,  we  must  be  cautious.  That  regiment,  or 
whatever  it  was,  has  not  had  time  to  get  very  far  away." 

" '  I  am  your  shadow,  my  lord ;  I'll  follow  you.'  " 

"The  embers  of  that  camp-fire  were  still  warm.  Perhaps, 
Captain,  you  should  now  return  to  General  Meade,  and  not  go 
farther  forward  with  me." 

" '  And  if  I  do  not,  may  my  hands  rot  off,' "  he  answered 
imperturbably. 

"  Captain,  have  we  been  gone  three  hours  ?  "  I  asked. 

"We  have." 

"  Have  our  men  reached  the  general,  do  you  think  ?  " 

«  Easily." 

"  It  is  seven  miles  to  Centreville." 

"  They  would  go  it  in  thirty  minutes ;  thirty-five  at  the  out- 
side —  counting  in  the  time  at  the  picket  post.  '  We  are  time's 
subjects,  and  time  bids  be  gone ' ;  come  on." 

"  I  have  a  great  desire  to  know  where  the  army  —  Lee's 
army  has  gone." 

"  Well ;  so  have  we  all ;  the  vote  is  unanimous." 

"  And  I  shall  try  to  find  out." 

"Lead  on.     '  For  my  part,  I'll  not  trouble  you  with  words.'  " 

"  But  I  want  to  go  as  far  as  Bristoe  —  or  at  least  to  the  creek 
this  side." 

"How  far  is  it?" 

"  Four  miles." 

"  We  shall  then  be  eleven  from  Centreville." 

"  Yes,  and  more  if  we  return  through  Manassas." 

"  We  shall  be  all  night  getting  back,"  said  he. 

"  Captain,  I  think  I'd  better  go  alone ;  not  that  you  would 
hinder  in  any  way,  but  that  you  may  be  needed  at  head- 
quarters." 

"  General  Meade  ordered  me  to  go  with  the  party  to  the 


28         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

front ;  you  are  the  party.  '  This  is  the  latest  parle  we  will 
admit/  sir,"  said  he. 

I  knew  that  A.  P.  Hill  had  been  at  Bristoe,  for  he  had  there 
attacked  the  rear-guard  under  Warren  just  four  days  previously, 
and  Cooke's  North  Carolinians  had  met  a  bloody  repulse,  losing 
many  prisoners  and  a  battery.  I  wanted  to  know  whether  the 
enemy  were  yet  at  Bristoe.  Unless  they  should  be  found  there 
in  strong  infantry  force,  I  should  feel  sure  that  Lee  had  retired 
behind  the  Rappahannock.  For  my  own  part,  I  was  confident 
that  Lee's  army  had  abandoned  the  campaign,  but  I  must  try 
to  satisfy  General  Meade  fully.  Between  Manassas  and  Broad 
Run  there  was  no  good  military  position  for  either  attack  or 
defence,  and  no  force  of  the  enemy  could  be  supposed  to  hold 
this  ground,  yet  I  had  already  found  abundant  proof  that  the 
region  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Confederate  cavalry,  and  it 
behooved  us  to  have  a  watchful  care  lest  we  run  headlong  upon 
some  party  moving  or  in  camp.  So  I  rode  ahead  of  the  cap- 
tain, and  cautiously,  stopping  at  every  turn  in  the  road  and  on 
every  elevation  reached,  and  straining  eye  and  ear  to  catch  the 
slightest  motion  or  sound.  The  road  was  sloppy ;  no  march 
had  been  made  upon  it  since  the  heavy  rain  that  had  fallen 
early  in  the  night ;  it  ran  diagonally  across  the  country  toward 
the  southeast,  making  in  the  direction  of  the  railroad. 

I  had  paused  at  a  turn  in  the  road,  just  where  it  left  a  copse 
of  undergrowth;  the  captain  was  yet  advancing  behind  me. 
Suddenly  I  knew  that  something  was  moving  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  or  so  in  front.  I  turned  my  horse  at  once  and 
rode  back  into  the  thicket ;  the  captain  followed  me. 

"  The  enemy,"  I  said,  dismounting  quickly. 

We  led  our  horses  forty  or  fifty  yards  into  the  woods.  I 
whispered  to  the  captain  that  I  should  go  to  the  road;  he 
understood  at  once,  and  took  my  bridle  from  me.  I  crept 
back  and  lay  flat.  The  tread  of  horse  was  now  distinct,  and 
the  murmur  of  voices.  Soon  the  road  before  me  was  filled 
with  a  dark,  moving  mass ;  the  night  was  nearly  black,  and 


SCOUTING  WITH   SHAKESPEARE  29 

did  not  allow  me  to  see  face  or  uniform,  yet  I  knew  that  here 
was  one  of  Stuart's  regiments.  The  column  passed  at  a  walk. 
There  was  not  much  said  by  these  troopers,  yet  now  and  then 
I  could  catch  a  word  which  by  its  peculiar  accent  betrayed  the 
pure  Southerner.  But  without  this  evidence,  without  any 
particular  evidence,  I  had  become  aware  that  these  men  were 
Confederates  before  I  saw  anything  more  than  a  black  mass 
moving  on  the  opposite  hill.  How  had  I  known  this  ?  Was 
it  instinct  ? 

The  column  had  gone.  I  returned  to  the  captain,  took  my 
bridle  from  him,  and  put  my  foot  in  the  stirrup.  I  had  not 
said  a  word. 

"  How  now  ?    What  news  with  you  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"Confederate  cavalry.     They  have  gone  northwest." 

We  mounted.  I  was  moody  and  silent.  The  captain  ob- 
served my  depression.  Said  he,  "  You  seem  tired  and  sleepy." 

The  words  aroused  me.  What  if  this  man  had  known  of 
my  past  experience !  would  he  not  suspect  that  my  sudden 
gloom  had  been  caused  by  homesickness,  so  to  speak  —  desire 
to  see  old  friends  in  the  Southern  army  ?  I  shook  off  my 
nerveless  torpor. 

"  Captain,"  said  I,  "  I  am  all  right.     Let  us  forward  again." 

We  crossed  the  railroad,  I  leading. 

The  captain  said,  "  Lee  has  gone  to  the  Eappahannock." 

I  did  not  reply.  I  knew  what  he  meant.  The  railroad  here 
had  been  destroyed.  Heaps  of  cross-ties  had  been  made,  and 
the  rails  had  been  piled  upon  them,  and  had  been  bent  with 
fire.  The  work  meant  Lee's  retreat.  He  had  gone. 

We  now  advanced  more  boldly,  for  we  could  not  believe  that 
Confederate  cavalry  would  be  on  the  east  of  the  railroad.  A 
little  before  midnight  we  rode  up  to  the  crossing  of  Broad  Run, 
behind  which  there  should  have  been  seen  the  light  of  a  great 
camp,  had  Lee's  army  yet  been  in  position.  But  upon  the  other 
side  of  the  stream,  which  we  did  not  try  to  cross,  all  was  dark- 
ness and  silence.  The  burnt  chimneys  at  Bristoe  Station  were 
there  —  but  no  Lee's  army. 


30         A   FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  They've  been  gone  a  full  day,  no  doubt,  and  our  cavalry 
nave  not  found  it  out ! "  exclaimed  the  captain,  in  tones  unnec- 
essarily angry. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done.  We  turned  our  horses' 
heads,  and  started  for  Manassas. 

"  Have  another  cigar,"  said  Captain  Scranton. 

Was  he  a  good  fellow  after  all  ?  His  stiffness  had  all  gone. 
He  was  treating  me  as  a  companion,  not  as  an  underling. 
Even  his  giving  me  a  second  cigar  was  not  offensive. 

"Berwick,"  said  he,  "we'll  have  no  rest  to-morrow.  "Tis 
grievous  to  be  thought  upon.' " 

"  Why  so,  Captain  ?  " 

"  We  shall  advance ;  I'd  risk  my  halidome  that  we  meet  the 
troops  unless  we  get  to  camp  before  day." 

"  Then  why  should  we  ride  back  ?  " 

I  had  said  the  words  vacantly.  Whatever  he  might  have 
done,  my  mind  was  set  on  getting  back  to  the  Doctor  and 
Lydia.  I  did  not  think  that  the  Sanitary  Camp,  or  General 
Meade's  headquarters  even,  would  be  moved  on  the  first  day's 
advance,  and  I  was  counting  upon  a  good  rest. 

"  To  make  sure,  and  to  go  to  bed ;  '  we'll  sort  occasion  to  a 
double  need.' " 

We  rode  rapidly.  Overhead  a  few  stars  were  shining.  We 
sped  through  groves  and  along  a  road  that  sank  and  rose,  and 
gave  us  now  and  then  an  extended  vision  right  and  left.  In 
the  far  north  the  welkin's  rim  was  merely  tinged  with  a  line 
of  brightness  —  to  the  unpractised  eye,  nothing;  but,  to  one 
who  knew,  the  encampment  of  a  mighty  army.  The  red  fire 
of  Scranton's  cigar  sparkled  at  my  left,  as  his  tall  horse  in 
long  lopes  easily  kept  abreast.  I  was  thinking  of  Lydia ;  of 
the  first  time  I  had  met  her  since  she  had  become  a  woman ; 
of  my  love  for  her  from  that  day  —  a  love  suppressed,  I  had 
thought,  kept  down  at  least  by  a  will  that  had  been  trained  to 
serve  reason.  I  was  thinking  of  my  trials  in  the  army  of  the 
South;  of  my  dear  captain  fallen  before  his  time  a  useless 


SCOUTING  WITH  SHAKESPEAKE  31 

sacrifice  —  useless  ?  No,  not  useless  —  devotion  to  an  idea  can 
never  be  useless ;  I  was  thinking  of  the  strange  instinctive  — 
"  Halt  there ! "  rang  out  ahead  of  us  in  the  gloom,  and 
we  pulled  up  violently  —  so  suddenly  that  Scranton's  cigar 
dropped  from  his  teeth  and  fell  to  the  ground,  where  I  saw 
it  sputtering  for  a  second  in  a  mud-pool. 

Only  for  a  second.  With  my  left  hand  I  seized  Scranton's 
bridle ;  with  my  right  I  jerked  my  horse  square  to  the  east, 
and  I  dug  the  spurs  into  his  sides.  I  saw  flashes,  and  heard 
shots,  and  felt  my  left  arm  almost  torn  from  the  shoulder 
by  the  momentary  inertia  of  Scranton's  iron-gray — merely 
momentary,  for  the  next  instant  we  were  beyond  the  railroad 
and  speeding  side  by  side  over  the  plain.  Not  a  word  had 
been  said  by  either. 

There  was  no  pursuit.  Who  were  these  men  who  had  met 
us  and  fired  on  us  ?  I  had  indistinctly  caught  the  outline  of  a 
group  of  horsemen ;  how  long  a  column  was  behind  the  front 
files,  who  could  know  ?  Were  they  Confederates  ?  I  knew 
they  were  Confederates. 

We  halted.      Scranton  was  laughing. 

"  Berwick,  we  have  run  away  from  our  own  men  ! " 

I  was  a  little  vexed.  He  could  not  understand.  I  could 
not  make  him  understand  even  if  I  tried. 

"  Then,  Captain,  you  wish  to  ride  back  to  them  ?  " 

He  sobered  at  once.  "  '  Give  me  some  breath,  some  little 
pause,  my  lord,  before  I  positively  speak  herein.'  " 

"  I  think  we  did  right  to  run,  Captain,"  I  said ;  "  we'd  bet- 
ter risk  a  shot  or  two  in  the  night  than  risk  being  captured  ; 
and  we'd  better  smoke  no  more." 

I  might  have  made  it  stronger  —  so  far  as  my  part  of 
the  proceeding  was  concerned.  I  might  have  added  that  I 
would  risk  the  fire  of  a  battalion  before  I  would  risk  a  Con- 
federate drumhead  court  martial,  but  Captain  Scranton,  of 
course,  knew  nothing  of  my  former  experiences,  and  was  not 
to  know. 


32         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Berwick,"  said  the  captain,  "  you  are  right.  '  Full  of  wise 
care  is  this  your  counsel,  sir.'  What  next  ?  " 

"  We  must  get  into  the  road  again,  further  north." 
r     We  let  the  horses  blow  after  their  spurt.     It  was  past  mid- 
night.    Just  how  far  we  had  ridden  out  of  our  course  I  did  not 
know,  but  I  knew  the  direction  to  Manassas.     The  captain 
became  inquisitive. 

"  Who  intercepted  our  expedition  ?  " 

"  Confederate  cavalry,  Captain." 

"  Twice.  *  Foes  to  my  rest  and  my  sweet  sleep's  disturbers.' 
But  you  astonish  me,  Berwick,  upon  the  soul  of  Meade,  you 
astonish  me ! " 

"  Because  I  run  from  Confederates  ?  " 

"  Evade  thou  not.  No ;  because  you  can  tell  a  Confederate 
by  his  smell,"  said  he. 

"  You  do  my  smellers  too  much  honour." 

He  stretched  his  arm  toward  the  west.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said, 
"  what  command  is  nearest  us  in  this  direction.  '  What  sayest 
thou  ?  Speak  suddenly  ;  be  brief ! '  " 

"  Give  it  up,"  said  I. 

"  Berwick,  seriously  I  inquire  how  you  knew  that  the 
column  which  we  first  met  was  Confederate." 

"  Captain,  I  heard  one  of  them  say  '  reckin  so.' " 

"And  seriously  again,  I  inquire  how  you  know  we  were 
fired  on  by  Confederates." 

What  reply  could  I  make  ?  The  captain  was  hard  on  me,  I 
thought.  To  answer  that  I  knew,  but  was  unconscious  of  the 
process  by  which  I  knew,  would  be  absurd. 

"  Did  you  hear  speech,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Only  two  words." 

"  What  were  the  words  ?  Repeat  them  please,  and  natu- 
rally." 

"'Halt  there!'" 

"  Captain,  you  are  not  a  Confederate." 

"  Not  just  at  present." 


SCOUTING  WITH   SHAKESPEARE  33 

"  And  I  doubt  your  being  a  Northerner." 

"  Ah !  he  turns  the  tables.  '  Bold,  quick,  ingenious,  capable.' 
You  are  right.  I  am  English." 

He  had  said  the  words  as  a  Virginian  or  perhaps  a  Mary- 
lander  would  speak  —  possibly  he  was  from  Baltimore.  The 
man  puzzled  me.  I  said  nothing.  The  captain  pressed  me  no 
further.  I  knew  that  he  had  lied. 

We  entered  the  road  again,  a  mile  northward  of  the  scene  of 
our  adventure.  The  country  here  was  bare  of  trees  and  level ; 
I  could  dimly  see  a  long  distance  to  the  front.  We  had  been 
in  the  road  but  a  few  minutes  when  I  discerned  the  forms  of 
men  on  horses  blocking  the  way,  some  two  hundred  yards  from 
us. 

"  Who  comes  there  ?  " 

"  Friends  with  the  countersign  !  "  I  cried. 

The  captain  had  reined  back  with  a  jerk,  but  was  now 
reassured. 

"  Halt,  friends  !    Advance  one,  with  the  countersign  ! " 

The  captain  rode  forward  alone  and  gave  the  password.  We 
were  told  by  the  men  on  post  that  they  had  been  advanced  to 
this  spot  from  Manassas  early  in  the  night;  that  Manassas 
was  held  by  the  Nineteenth  New  York  cavalry,  under  Colonel 
Gibbs.  We  rode  on  through  the  old  camp  at  Manassas,  and 
took  to  the  left  for  Centreville.  The  captain  was  talkative  — 
almost  merry. 

"  Berwick,  we've  made  a  night  of  it.  '  If  to  have  done  the 
thing  you  gave  in  charge  beget  your  happiness,  be  happy,' 
General  Meade.  I  swear  his  doubts  are  fled." 

"  He  was  very  anxious,  was  he,  Captain  ?  " 

"Anxious?  He  was  a  whole  hornets'  nest.  Tor  by  his 
face  straight  shall  you  know  his  heart.'  You  ought  to  have 
seen  his  message  to  Halleck." 

"  Trouble  between  him  and  Halleck  ?  Sorry  to  hear  it," 
said  I. 

" '  Penetrable  to  your  kind  entreats,'  I  have  the  honour  to 


34          A  FRIEND   WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

say  that  our  general  got  the  best  of  the  man  in  Washington. 
But,  no  more  of  this,  Berwick.  The  thing  is  settled,  and  we 
tell  no  tales." 1 

His  laugh  sounded  like  irony. 

"  Berwick,  how  long  have  you  been  in  the  army  ?  " 

"  Joined  in  sixty-one,  Captain  —  before  Bull  Run." 

"  Were  you  at  Bull  Run  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir  —  twice." 

"  What  regiment  was  it  ?  General  Meade  told  me,  but  I've 
forgotten." 

"  Eleventh  Massachusetts." 

"You've  had  experience;  'follow  thy  drum;  paint  the 
ground  gules,  gules.'  But  you  follow  no  longer;  you  lead. 
When  did  the  general  detach  you  ?  " 

"  Very  recently,  sir."  I  feared  that  Scranton  had  seen  me 
on  the  12th,  when  in  Confederate  clothing  I  had  stood  in  the 
midst  of  General  Meade's  staff  for  half  an  hour  answering 
questions  concerning  Lee's  movements ;  and  I  added,  "  Where 
were  you  on  the  twelfth  in  the  afternoon,  Captain  ?  " 

"The  twelfth?  Let  me  see  —  oh,  yes;  Meade  sent  me  to 
the  south  of  the  river.  Why  ?  " 

"  That  was  the  day  of  my  first  work  for  the  general,"  said  I. 

As  we  neared  the  lines  there  was  the  commotion  that  pre- 
cedes movement.  Everything  was  astir.  Fires  were  sur- 
rounded by  groups  swallowing  their  breakfast.  Evidently  a 
march  was  to  begin. 

1  Halleck  telegraphed  Meade:  "Lee  is  unquestionably  bullying  you.  If 
you  cannot  ascertain  his  movements,  I  certainly  cannot.  If  you  will  pursue 
and  fight  him,  I  think  you  will  find  out  where  he  is.  I  know  of  no  other 
way." 

Meade  replied :  "  If  you  have  any  orders  to  give  me,  I  am  prepared  to 
receive  and  obey  them,  but  I  must  insist  on  being  spared  the  infliction  of  such 
truisms  in  the  guise  of  opinions  as  you  have  recently  honored  me  with,  par- 
ticularly as  they  were  not  asked  for.  I  take  this  occasion  to  repeat  what  I 
have  before  stated,  that  if  my  course,  based  on  my  own  judgment,  does  not 
meet  with  approval,  I  ought  to  be,  and  desire  to  be,  relieved  from  command." 
[Ed.] 


SCOUTING  WITH  SHAKESPEARE  35 

And  the  captain  said,  dramatically  waving  his  hand,  " '  The 
silent  hours  steal  on,  and  flaky  darkness  breaks  within  the 
east' " 

"Captain,"  said  I,  "I  feel  that  I've  ridden  with  Shake- 
speare." 

"  Don't  laugh,  Berwick ;  I  can't  help  it.  You  see,  I  trod  the 
boards  for  five  years  in  old  England." 

I  doubted  the  England  part,  and  my  doubt  of  the  man's 
integrity  made  me  resolve  not  to  trust  him.  I  deplored  the 
fact  that  General  Meade  had  told  Scranton  that  I  could  pass 
anywhere;  I  must  watch  this  man,  but  I  must  not  let  him 
watch  me. 


IV 

SUSPICIONS 

"  By  a  divine  instinct  men's  minds  mistrust 
Ensuing  dangers  ;  as,  by  proof,  we  see 
The  waters  swell  before  a  boist'rous  storm." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

MY  sleep  had  been  troubled.  I  knew  very  well  that  Dr. 
Khayme  possessed  some  mysterious  power  by  which  he  could 
cause  me  to  sleep  at  his  will,  for  I  had  previously  had  experi- 
ence of  this  benign  influence,  but  on  this  occasion  I  had  not 
had  opportunity  to  get  his  help :  he  had  been  called  to  the 
aid  of  some  men  who  had  run  against  Mosby  in  the  night  with 
the  usual  result. 

When  I  rose  about  one  o'clock,  I  found  that  the  Doctor  had 
returned. 

"  You  have  not  slept  well,"  he  said. 

Lydia  looked  sympathy ;  the  dear  girl  had  her  own  troubles 
and  her  own  work,  yet  I  knew  that  her  heart  was  wishing  to 
comfort  me. 

"And  there  is  a  new  expression  on  your  face,"  said  the 
Doctor. 

"  Yes,  Doctor ;  I  have  had  an  experience,"  said  I,  sadly. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  said  Lydia. 

I  gave  them  briefly  an  account  of  my  night's  work. 

"  Not  very  wonderful,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Not  wonderful ! " 

"No;  do  you  think  men  have  the  same  powers,  and  in  the 
same  degree  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,  Doctor." 

3d 


SUSPICIONS  37 

"At  how  great  a  distance  do  you  think  you  could  tell  a 
Confederate  from  a  Northerner  ?  " 

"  By  his  speech,  do  you  mean,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  His  everything.  Certainly,  Jones,  it  is  likely  that  no  man 
could  be  more  sensitive  than  you,  to  the  presence  of  Confed- 
erates. Habit,  called  second  nature,  may  develop  beyond 
nature.  You  simply  know  a  Confederate  at  a  great  distance 
and  many  Confederates  at  a  greater  distance." 

The  Doctor  went  into  a  talk  on  habit,  giving  some  wonder- 
ful illustrations,  to  which  I  listened  attentively.  His  words 
brought  comfort ;  I  had  felt  great  fear  of  the  Southerners,  and 
I  was  glad  to  be  told  that  my  intercourse  with  them  had  given 
me  some  capacity  for  avoiding  them. 

******* 

Headquarters  had  moved  to  Warrenton.  Doctor  Khayme, 
according  to  his  wont,  still  held  his  camp  at  Centreville;  he 
would  not  move  until  the  army  was  more  settled.  He  had 
expressed  a  conviction  that  there  would  be  no  engagement 
north  of  the  Kappahannock ;  he  would,  therefore,  save  him- 
self and  especially  Lydia  the  worry  of  short  marches ;  when 
Meade  crossed  the  river  would  be  time  enough.  Lydia's  skill 
was  in  great  demand  even  at  Centreville,  for  there  were  small 
cavalry  skirmishes  almost  daily  at  this  period,  and  she  had 
her  hands  full  at  the  hospital.  There  seemed  as  yet  no  hope 
for  Colonel  Paull. 

For  some  days  I  saw  nothing  of  my  dearest  friends.  Al- 
though the  distance  from  Warrenton  to  Centreville  was  not 
great  —  but  twenty-two  miles  I  think  —  my  attachment  to 
General  Meade's  secret  corps  did  not  allow  me,  in  this  inter- 
val, to  visit  the  Sanitary  Camp.  General  Meade  was  delaying 
his  advance  until  the  railroad,  destroyed  by  Lee's  army,  should 
be  rebuilt ;  otherwise  supplies  would  be  precarious. 

My  chief  acquaintance  was  Captain  Scranton.  This  man 
was  a  puzzle  to  me.  He  certainly  had  some  strong  qualities ; 
I  had  found  him  brave,  but  careless;  mentally  quick;  too 


38          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

quick  —  impulsive  ;  of  firm  loyalty  to  his  adopted  country,  so 
far  as  one  could  judge  from  words,  yet  I  knew  that  he  was 
not  thoroughly  honest.  He  frequently  expressed  admiration 
for  General  Lee  and  above  all  for  the  great  military  genius 
lost  at  Chancellorsville ;  his  outspoken  belief  in  the  superior- 
ity of  Southern  generalship  made  me  think  at  times  that  he 
was  by  no  means  confident  of  the  final  success  of  the  Union 
cause.  He  had  been  with  General  Meade  in  the  campaign  of 
Gettysburg,  and  had  been  greatly  distinguished  for  his  reck- 
less daring,  having  ridden  straight  through  fire  of  shell  and 
shot,  on  both  the  2d  and  3d,  carrying  orders  from  Meade  to 
Sickles,  and  from  Meade  to  Hancock,  when  other  messengers 
sought  circuitous  and  safer  courses.  He  gave  evidence  that 
he  belonged  to  the  gentle  class,  yet  there  were  times  when,  per- 
haps because  of  the  mannerisms  contracted  through  his  train- 
ing as  an  actor,  I  could  have  thought  him  a  cheap  imitation  of 
the  gentleman.  As  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  confide  in  him, 
it  was  likewise  impossible  to  expect  confidence  from  him. 

One  morning  I  was  lying  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  in  the  rear 
of  headquarters,  with  nothing  to  do  but  enjoy  the  Indian 
summer,  and  everything  to  think  of  drowsily.  Time  was 
heavy  on  my  hands,  and  the  weather  was  not  conducive  to 
voluntary  enterprise.  I  wished  that  the  army  would  go  into 
winter  quarters  —  then  my  friends  could  come.  That  great 
work  which  I  was  to  do,  bore  upon  me,  prolonging  suspense ; 
it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  I  was  to  get  it  done  soon,  for 
now  nobody  was  doing  anything  —  except  a  few  cavalry  some- 
where on  the  flanks. 

A  footfall  sounded  behind  me,  and  Scranton  approached. 
He  sat  by  me.     For  my  part  I  felt  little  like  talking. 
"  <  What's  the  matter,  Clarence  ?    May  I  know  ? '  " 
"  Captain,  isn't  this  the  laziest  weather  you  ever  saw  ?  " 
"Atrocious.     'Thus  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  land  have  we 
marched  on  without  impediment'  —  now  we  wait  for  impedi- 
menta." 


SUSPICIONS  39 

"  Captain,  where  did  you  get  that  servant  of  yours  ?  " 

He  started ;  recovering  at  once,  he  laughed :  "  Curious 
rooster,  isn't  he  ?  He  is  Alsatian,  I  think ;  '  hasty  and  tinder- 
like  upon  too  trivial  motion.'  " 

This  thinking  Scherzer  Alsatian  was  almost  self-betrayal. 

"  I  judge  that  he  has  seen  better  times,"  said  I. 

"  Yes  ?  Perhaps  so ;  many  people  have  seen  better  times. 
Now  '  in  good  time  here  comes  the  Duke  himself.'  How  he 
keeps  going  I  don't  know.  He  doesn't  even  stagger." 

It  was  known  that  Scherzer  drank  some  liquor,  though  not 
of  the  heady  sorts. 

"  I've  never  seen  him  drunk,"  said  I,  thinking  it  strange  that 
the  captain  should  exaggerate  the  habit  of  his  servant. 

"No;  there's  many  a  cup  'twixt  his  lip  and  his  slip." 

Scherzer  came  very  slowly ;  I  felt  that  his  eyes  were  on  me 
and  not  on  the  captain  —  but  when  he  was  very  near,  the  mat- 
ter was  reversed  ;  he  refused  to  look  at  me. 

"  What  is  it,  Scherzer  ?  "  asked  Scranton. 

"  The  men  haf  come." 

"  Let  them  wait." 

"  I  did  say  that,  and  they  did  say  no  ;  not  haf  time  to  wait." 

"  Go  back  and  say  that  I  will  come." 

It  was  perversity,  no  doubt,  which  made  me  linger.  So  far 
as  military  duty  was  concerned,  Scranton  would  not  stand  on 
ceremony  with  me ;  if  the  men  spoken  of  by  Scherzer  had  come 
in  consequence  of  orders,  the  captain  would  at  once  go  to  them; 
that  he  had  shown  no  haste  caused  me  to  think  some  private 
affair  was  claiming  his  attention.  I  was  a  little  curious  ;  he 
was  silent  —  wishing  me  to  be  the  first  to  go,  perhaps. 

"  You  think  we  shall  advance  soon,  Captain  ?  " 

"Berwick,  General  Meade  will  advance  when  necessary. 
'  He  hath  a  wisdom  that  doth  guide  his  valour  to  act  in 
safety.' " 

"  His  caution  is  to  his  credit,"  said  I ;  "  what  would  you 
have  him  do  ?  " 


40          A  FRIEND   WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"Exactly  what  he  is  doing.  '  I  partly  know  the  man.'  Ber- 
wick, bigger  game  is  afoot  than  that  in  Virginia." 

"What  is  it  you  mean,  Captain?  The  presidential  elec- 
tion ?  " 

"Thou  art  unregenerate.  Learn  wisdom,  Berwick,  learn 
wisdom ! " 

"  Hard  to  do,  Captain,  without  a  teacher." 

"  Wouldst  be  a  willing  scholar  ?  " 

"Yes  —  if  I  might  choose  what  to  study." 

"  Children  put  to  school  do  not  dictate  such  things." 

"  What  things  ?  " 

"I  speak  of  them  not  now  hastily,  'lest  after  hours  give 
leisure  to  repent.'  Could  you  be  faithful  ?  Pardon.  Could 
you  have  such  faith  as  to  swear  beforehand  ?  " 

"  To  incur  danger  blindly  ?  " 

"  *  My  lord,  I  hold  my  life  as  dear  as  you  do  yours.'  Do 
you  not  approve  the  obedience — the  unquestioning  obedience 
—  of  the  soldier?" 

"  But  we  are  first  volunteers.  We  fight  for  our  country.  In 
the  manner  of  fighting  obedience  is  correct." 

" '  How  shall  we  find  the  concord  of  this  discord  ? '  Hear 
that  ?  I  think  I  shall  go  down  and  see  what  it  is  that  Scherzer 
is  exercised  about." 

A  gun  had  fired  miles  away  in  the  southwest,  and  had 
furnished  Scranton  with  a  chance  for  diverting  the  talk. 
Guus  had  been  firing  all  day,  at  times ;  this  was  a  man  with 
pretexts. 

After  a  short  time  I  began  to  walk  back  to  headquarters,  my 
way  being  through  a  wooded  hollow,  where  a  small  brook  ran. 
Just  as  I  leaped  the  stream,  I  saw  to  my  right,  not  more  than 
fifty  yards  away,  a  group  of  men,  six  at  least.  They  were 
standing  near  each  other,  all  looking  toward  their  centre  where, 
from  the  peculiar  nature  of  their  attitudes,  I  thought  there  was 
a  smaller  man  whom  I  could  not  see.  Prominent  among  these 
men  was  Scranton,  as  attentive  as  the  rest.  The  noise  I  made 


SUSPICIONS  41 

must  have  been  heard,  for  they  looked  toward  me,  and  some  of 
them  moved  a  little,  so  that  I  could  now  see  that  the  central 
figure  was  Scherzer. 

I  passed  on  without  speaking. 

Suddenly  I  stopped.  My  suspicions  —  indefinite,  it  is  true, 
and  unreasonable,  had  led  me  to  fancy  that  the  important  work 
which  Dr.  Khayme  had  hinted  at,  had  some  connection  with 
Scranton  and  Scherzer.  I  looked  round ;  they  were  not  to  be 
seen. 

But  how  could  this  subordinate  officer  and  his  foreign  ser- 
vant have  any  relation  to  a  work  which,  I  had  been  told,  was 
to  be  of  national  influence?  I  continued  my  way,  laughing 
inwardly  at  myself  for  allowing  my  imaginings  to  get  the 
better  of  my  judgment. 


TO   THE   WILDERNESS    FOB   WARREN 

*'  Eos.   Well,  this  is  the  forest  of  Arden. 
Touch.  Ay,  now  am  I  in  Arden ;  the  more  fool  I." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

EARLY  in  November  the  army  advanced  to  the  Rappahan- 
nock.  A  combat  at  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  it  is  crossed 
by  the  railroad,  resulted  in  the  loss  to  the  Confederates  of 
almost  the  whole  of  Hays's  Louisiana  brigade  and  a  great 
part  of  Hoke's.  On  the  8th  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  crossed 
the  Rappahannock ;  headquarters  were  fixed  at  Culpeper.  In 
none  of  these  movements  had  my  services  been  demanded. 

Dr.  Khayme  now  moved  his  quarters  near  us,  and  for  a 
few  weeks  I  had  the  happiness  of  being  once  more  with  my 
dearest  friends.  Colonel  Paull,  still  under  Lydia's  care,  was 
but  little  better,  his  removal  having  given  him  great  pain. 

In  the  afternoon  of  November  20th,  I  was  ordered  by  General 
Meade  to  report  to  General  Warren  for  secret  service.  On 
arriving  at  the  headquarters  of  the  Second  corps  —  then  tem- 
porarily under  Warren  because  of  General  Hancock's  slow 
recovery  from  wounds  received  at  Gettysburg  —  I  was  told 
that  the  general  was  absent.  He  soon  returned,  however, 
and  received  me. 

"  Do  you  know  the  Eapidan  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  crossed  it,  General,  several  times." 

"  Above  or  below  our  front  ?    At  what  fords  ?  " 

"  I  have  crossed  it  at  Liberty  Mills,  at  Raccoon  Ford,  and  at 
Germanna." 

42 


TO  THE  WILDERNESS  FOB  WARREN          43 

"Germanna!"  he  exclaimed;  "tell  me  about  Germanna 
Ford.  Is  it  deep?" 

"  When  I  crossed  it  the  water  was  shallow  enough,  General, 
but  the  time  was  midsummer." 

"  And  you  think  it  is  not  f ordable  now  ?  " 

"General,  it  was  waist-deep  in  summer.  I  suppose  it  is 
hardly  fordable  for  infantry  at  this  season." 

"  But  for  cavalry  and  artillery  ?  " 

"  They  would  have  no  trouble,  General,  unless  the  river  was 
swollen  by  rain." 

"  Do  you  know  the  country  beyond  Germanna  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,  General;  I  know  the  ground  at  and  around 
Chancellorsville,  and  around  Fredericksburg,  but  between  Ger- 
manna and  Chancellorsville  I  know  nothing  more  than  the 
road  and  objects  easily  seen  from  the  road  —  and  they  are  not 
greatly  varied,  sir.  It  is  a  wilderness  down  there." 

"  As  bad  as  around  Chancellorsville  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General ;  I  judge  that  there  is  a  wide  scope  of  coun- 
try, south  of  the  Rapidan,  that  is  little  else  than  unbroken 
forest." 

I  inferred  that  an  advance  was  contemplated,  and  that  the 
Second  corps  was  to  cross  the  Rapidan  at  Germanna.  I  learned 
afterward  that  in  Hooker's  campaign  General  Warren  had 
crossed  the  Rappahannock  at  United  States  Ford,  much  below 
the  point  upon  which  his  attention  was  now  fixed.  The  gen- 
eral continued  to  question  me. 

"  Do  you  know  Flat  Run  ?  " 

"  Not  by  that  name,  General." 

"  Then  by  what  name  ?     Has  it  another  name  ?  " 

"I  mean,  General,  that  I  may  have  seen  the  stream  you 
speak  of,  without  learning  its  name." 

"How  far  beyond  Germanna  Ford  is  the  first  important 
stream  ?  " 

"  About  three  miles,  sir." 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  look  at  the  map.     Here  is  a  stream  laid 


44          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

down  as  Flat  Run  just  about  three  miles  from  Germanna 
Ford." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  remember  crossing  it." 

"  Does  it  present  any  difficulty  ?  " 

"  No,  General ;  it  is  easily  forded." 

"  This  angle  between  the  Orange  and  Fredericksburg  turn- 
pike and  the  Germanna  road  cannot  be  crossed  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  can,  General ;  there  is  certainly  a  road  coming 
into  the  Culpeper  road  —  " 

"  The  Culpeper  road  ?  " 

"  The  same  that  you  call  the  Germanna  road,  General  —  the 
road  from  Culpeper  to  Wilderness  Tavern  and  on ;  there  is  a 
road  just  about  a  mile  beyond  the  stream.  I  don't  know  where 
it  goes,  but  I  know  it  starts  in  a  southwest  direction ;  it  ought 
to  cut  off  that  angle.  It  leaves  the  Culpeper  road  near  the 
point  marked  Spotswood's." 

"  How  far  is  it  from  Germanna  Ford  to  Wilderness  Tavern  ?  " 

"  About  six  miles,  General." 

"I  want  to  know  where  that  Spotswood  road  goes.  You 
must  find  out  for  me.  It  is  important." 

"  When  shall  I  do  the  work,  General  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  possible ;  at  once." 

"  How  long  can  you  give  me,  sir  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  forty-eight  hours." 

"  I  must  start  at  once,  then,  sir." 

"  You  must  start  at  once.    What  do  you  need  ?    Speak  out." 

"  Nothing,  sir ;  I  have  everything  necessary.  I  can  start  in 
two  hours." 

"  You  want  no  men  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Very  well.    You  understand  fully  what  I  require  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  General.  You  wish  me  to  report  within  forty- 
eight  hours  the  condition  of  the  Spotswood  road,  and  where  it 
crosses  or  enters  the  Orange  and  Fredericksburg  turnpike." 

"  Exactly.    You  may  go." 


TO  THE   WILDERNESS   FOR  WARREN          46 

Riding  back  to  the  Doctor's  camp,  I  began  to  plan  for  the 
undertaking  before  me.  To  Germanna  Ford  it  was  more  than 
ten  miles,  four  or  five  more  to  the  road  which  I  must  examine, 
and  I  supposed  five  or  six  thence  to  the  Orange  and  Fredericks- 
burg  turnpike.  To  go  and  come  directly  would  take  the  greater 
part  of  one  day.  A  day  would  do  for  the  work  itself  when 
I  should  get  upon  the  ground — that  is,  if  I  should  not  be 
hindered  by  conditions  now  unforeseen.  The  region  to  which 
I  was  going  was  what  is  known  as  The  Wilderness — a 
tangled  thicket  upon  an  enormous  scale,  with  here  and  there 
an  opening  in  the  jungle,  the  home  of  some  settler  who,  on 
account  of  his  peculiar  tastes,  or  perhaps  because  of  the  dis- 
covery of  fertility  in  some  small  spot,  or  because  he  could  do  no 
better,  had  cleared  a  little  space  far  away  from  any  neighbour. 

The  Wilderness  begins  near  Chancellorsville,  and  extends 
westward  no  man  knows  how  far  —  the  name  being  applied 
to  an  indefinite  scope  of  country.  The  road  I  was  going  to 
examine  was  in  the  midst  of  The  Wilderness. 

The  Confederate  army  was  holding  the  south  bank  of  the 
Rapidan.  Lee's  infantry  extended  only  to  Morton's  Ford  on 
the  east  —  his  right  —  but  cavalry  picketed  the  river  in  its 
lower  course  and  kept  close  watch  at  every  crossing-place.  To 
make  the  venture  alone  seemed  prudent,  becaxise:  First,  a 
body  of  men  could  hardly  evade  detection  and  pursuit ;  Sec- 
ond, even  if  a  body  of  men  should  not  be  seen  while  on  the 
ground,  it  was  certain  that  after  the  work  had  been  done  the 
Confederates  would  learn  of  the  expedition,  and  in  that  case 
suspicion  might  point  to  the  projected  movement  —  a  con- 
tingency to  be  averted  by  all  means  possible ;  Third,  I  felt 
that  alone  I  could  accomplish  the  work  in  less  time  than  a 
party  would  require,  and  haste  was  demanded  of  me.  But 
for  the  fact  that  every  able-bodied  man  in  the  South  had  been 
called  to  serve  in  her  armies,  I  should  have  thought  that  to 
wear  civilian's  clothing  would  be  the  safest  course,  but  a  man 
so  young  as  I  —  in  fact  almost  any  man  remaining  in  this 


46         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

region  —  and  not  a  soldier,  would  naturally  excite  suspicion. 
After  deliberating  upon  the  respective  difficulties,  I  concluded 
that  the  way  to  go  was  to  go  clothed  in  blue  uniform,  and 
unarmed,  and  that  the  most  of  the  work  should  be  done  at 
night. 

At  the  Doctor's  I  found  that  he  and  Lydia  were  absent 
about  some  merciful  work.  I  wrote  to  Lydia,  filled  a  bag 
with  oats,  put  into  a  haversack  some  cold  food  which  the  cook 
found  for  me,  and  made  a  start.  From  the  Doctor's  camp  to 
Germanna  Ford  it  is  twelve  miles  and  a  half ;  I  rode  it  by 
two  o'clock,  encountering  here  and  there  along  the  road  some 
groups  of  our  cavalry,  who  let  me  pass  on  without  challenge. 
A  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  ford  I  found  a  cavalry  picket, 
who  stopped  me  and  sent  for  Lieutenant  Hassett  who  was  in 
command  at  this  point.  The  lieutenant  was  unwilling  to  let 
me  go  on.  I  took  him  aside  and  argued  the  matter ;  I  told 
him  that  I  was  on  special  service  by  order  of  Generals  Meade 
and  Warren,  but  he  wanted  proof  —  I  might  be  a  spy  return- 
ing to  the  rebels  —  I  might  be  deserting ;  he  could  not  let  me 
pass  without  orders.  He  was  clearly  in  the  right,  and  I  was 
uncertain  what  to  do ;  I  had  not  brought  with  me  the  order 
of  General  Meade  detaching  me,  and  I  had  not  thought  of 
getting  General  Warren  to  pass  me  through  our  lines.  I  tried 
Hassett  again.  I  told  him,  generally,  what  my  work  was  to 
be  —  and  stressed  its  importance ;  if  through  his  rigid  adher- 
ence to  observances,  my  work  should  be  ruined  at  the  outset, 
the  result  would  cause  General  Warren  great  displeasure.  He 
replied  that  that  was  none  of  his  business ;  he  added  that  in 
his  opinion  there  were  ninety-nine  chances  in  a  hundred  that 
I  was  telling  the  truth,  yet  he  could  not  and  would  not  risk 
that  odd  chance.  Then  I  asked  him  to  send  a  man  back  to 
General  Warren  for  authority,  and  meantime  to  let  me  ex- 
amine, under  guard  if  need  be,  the  course  of  the  river  near  by. 
He  was  deliberating  upon  this  proposal,  when  the  pickets 
brought  up  another  horseman,  who  proved  to  be  one  of  Gen- 


TO  THE  WILDERNESS  FOR  WARREN          47 

eral  Warren's  couriers ;  the  general  had  feared  that  I  should 
be  stopped  and  had  sent  an  order,  -which  at  once  set  me  right. 

The  night  was  cold ;  the  few  cavalrymen  at  the  post  were 
lying  around  a  fire.  The  lieutenant  told  me  that  three  men 
were  posted  on  the  bank  of  the  river — at  daybreak  they 
would  be  withdrawn.  I  got  ready  for  the  work  before  me; 
a  long  smooth  staff  was  cut  for  me  by  one  of  the  men.  I  left 
my  horse  in  Hassett's  care. 

Less  than  half  a  mile  above  Germanna  Ford,  the  Rapidan, 
after  having  made  to  the  south  a  horseshoe,  around  which  the 
distance  is  nearly  three  miles,  and  across  which  the  distance 
is  hardly  one  mile,  begins  to  run  northeast,  and  keeps  this 
course  for  two  miles ;  then  it  turns  sharply  to  the  southeast 
and  continues  generally  to  flow  in  this  direction  for  a  long 
distance.  From  Germanna  Ford,  by  the  course  of  the  river 
around  the  horseshoe  to  Brookes's  Ford,  the  next  crossing 
above,  is  perhaps  three  miles ;  in  a  straight  line,  Brookes's 
Ford  is  not  more  than  a  mile  from  Germanna. 

Lieutenant  Hassett  picketed  only  the  ford  at  Germanna,  but 
patrolled  between  Germanna  and  Brookes's  Ford  night  and  day. 
He  admitted  that  the  difficulties  of  a  near  approach  to  the  river 
caused  his  patrols  to  move  merely  across  the  heels  of  the  horse- 
shoe at  night;  every  morning,  however,  a  round  was  made 
along  the  stream  itself.  From  his  advanced  posts  the  Confed- 
erate pickets  were  frequently  visible  by  day,  and  their  fires  by 
night.  They  were  posted  upon  the  high  ground  a  few  hundred 
yards  beyond  the  ford  ;  as  to  picket  firing,  there  existed  a  tacit 
truce. 

A  cavalry  regiment  pickets  many  miles ;  to  guard  the  con- 
vex side  of  the  loop  would  be  almost  a  necessity  for  the  Con- 
federates, because,  if  they  neglected  to  do  so,  a  regiment  of 
Union  cavalry  might  hide  in  the  loop,  and  cross ;  but  Confed- 
erate necessity  was  not  to  be  judged  by  rule ;  the  Confederacy 
was  weak,  and  must  do  as  it  could,  and  I  doubted  that  more 
than  a  man  or  two  were  posted  around  the  loop. 


48          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  asked  the  lieutenant  if  a  man  could  find  a  crossing  within 
the  bend.  He  replied  that  the  stream  could  be  crossed  at 
almost  any  point,  at  least  in  the  day,  when  a  man  could  see 
how  to  pick  his  way ;  in  the  night  there  would  be  some  danger 
—  he  might  find  a  deep  hole  instead  of  a  shallow.  I  decided 
to  risk  that  danger ;  I  knew  that  shallow  water  makes  more 
noise  than  deep  water,  and  by  using  my  ears,  and  feeling  my 
way  cautiously,  I  believed  that  I  could  avoid  the  holes. 

It  was  three  o'clock  when  I  left  the  bivouac  fire  of  Lieu- 
tenant Hassett's  men  and  went  on  foot  into  the  horseshoe.  The 
night  was  not  very  dark  —  a  cold,  starlit  night,  the  moon  hav- 
ing gone  down  at  two.  Keeping  near  to  the  river  bank,  I  care- 
fully noted  every  sign  which  might  help  me  to  determine  the 
relative  merits  of  different  places  for  crossing.  The  river  ran 
at  my  left  as  I  went  up-stream  into  the  loop.  Far  to  the  south- 
ward an  owl  was  hooting ;  at  times  I  fancied  I  heard  its  mate 
responding  from  deeper  depths  of  The  Wilderness.  Trees  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  leaned  forward  over  the  waters  like  bow- 
ing battalions  grounding  arms.  Behind  me,  when  I  turned,  I 
could  see  intermittently  the  single  light  at  Hassett's  bivouac ; 
at  the  front  was  the  forbidding  forest  with  Confederate  pickets 
on  its  borders,  and  patrols  on  every  available  road. 

The  river  was  of  varying  width  —  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  average  —  and  of  varying  swiftness.  As  I  groped  along  its 
bank,  carefully  considering  its  relations  of  width  and  velocity, 
I  came  to  the  knowledge — something  I  ought  to  have  had 
without  effort  —  that  the  narrow  places  were  the  swift  places, 
but  I  could  by  no  means  decide  that  the  swift  places  were  shal- 
low. After  an  hour's  slow  progress,  I  fancied  that  I  had  caught 
a  feeble  gleam  of  light  through  the  trees  beyond  the  river,  but 
if  a  light  was  there,  I  had  lost  it  at  once,  and  could  not  recover 
it.  Possibly,  thought  I,  some  Confederate  over  there  was 
lighting  his  pipe  —  yet  I  knew  that  a  Confederate  would  not 
use  a  match  for  this  purpose,  especially  if  near  a  fire;  beyond 
the  Rapidan  matches  were  costly.  I  kept  on;  at  once  the 


•v, 


TO  THE  WILDERNESS  FOR  WARREN  49 

river  began  its  curve  toward  the  northwest ;  I  had  reached  the 
middle  of  the  bend.  I  sat  down  and  tried  to  think  what  was 
best  to  do ;  every  further  step  I  should  now  take  up  the  river 
was  doubling  my  work.  Had  not  that  gleam  of  light  come 
from  a  bivouac  fire  ?  I  went  back  to  the  spot  from  which,  a 
few  moments  before,  I  had  seen  the  light.  I  moved  my  head 
this  way  and  that,  trying  every  angle  possible  within  a  reason- 
able scope  —  nothing  but  trees,  and  water,  and  night.  I  deter- 
mined that  if  that  were  a  fire  made  at  a  Confederate  picket 
post,  I  should  learn  the  fact  as  fact.  Walking  slowly  back- 
ward from  the  water,  I  ascended  the  sloping  bank  of  the 
stream,  keeping  my  gaze  to  the  front.  On  top  of  the  bank  it 
was  worse ;  the  boughs  of  the  bending  trees  did  not  let  me  see 
even  the  surface  of  the  river.  I  went  on  back,  still  seeking 
higher  ground,  but  the  ground  became  no  higher.  What  to 
do?  Suddenly  I  had  it;  I  went  rapidly  toward  the  water, 
and  reached  again  the  spot  from  which  I  had  seen  the  light. 
The  nearest  tree  was  soon  climbed ;  from  its  branches  I  tried 
every  available  angle,  and  could  see  nothing  in  front  except 
the  dim  foreground  of  the  river's  noisy  surface,  and  behind  it 
the  black  trees  rising,  and  farther  away  an  ascending  plane, 
all  gloom,  which  lost  itself  immediately  in  a  near-by  horizon. 
I  came  down  from  the  tree  and  tried  another,  but  only  to  fail. 
Yet  I  would  not  give  up.  From  a  taller  tree,  and  yet  from  a 
lower  altitude,  I  had  a  full  view  of  a  light  through  the  woods 
in  front.  By  diligent  and  attentive  work,  moving  about  in  the 
tree,  and  giving  heed  to  all  surroundings,  I  became  convinced 
that  the  light  was  on  higher  ground  than  mine  —  that  it  was 
back  from  the  river  a  hundred  yards  or  more.  But  that  light 
—  what  was  it  ?  Might  it  not  be  a  light  in  some  dwelling? 
No  —  it  was  long  past  midnight;  peaceful  inhabitants  would 
be  asleep  at  this  hour.  The  only  reasonable  supposition  was 
that  the  light  came  from  the  bivouac  of  the  Confederate 
pickets.  Doubtless  a  group  of  cavalry  were  lying  asleep 
around  the  fire,  with  one  of  their  number  stationed  as  a 


60 

vedette  on  the  very  bank  of  the  river  opposite  me.  I  remained 
long  in  the  tree,  watching  the  light,  and  at  last  became  certain  ; 
I  had  seen,  for  the  space  of  two  or  three  seconds,  the  light 
obscured  by  an  object  passing  before  it ;  I  felt  sure  that  a  man 
had  stood  for  a  moment  between  me  and  the  fire. 

I  came  down.  My  mind  was  made  up.  There  was  in  all 
probability  no  group  of  Confederate  pickets  between  this  group 
at  the  apex  of  the  bend  and  the  group  on  the  Germanna  road, 
and  these  groups  were  a  mile  apart  by  the  course  of  the  stream, 
and  half  a  mile  in  a  straight  line.  Each  group,  no  doubt,  had 
a  vedette  on  the  river  bank,  but  between  the  vedettes  the  watch 
would  be  kept  up  by  patrols.  I  went  back  down  the  river  until 
the  bending  tree  tops  from  either  bank,  as  the  stream  curved  a 
little  this  way  and  that,  would  hide  the  surface  of  the  water 
from  the  eyes  of  a  sentinel  stationed  on  the  bank  in  front  of 
the  fire.  The  place  which  I  chose  was  a  little  wider  than  the 
river's  average,  and  was  rapid  also.  If  there  was  a  sentinel 
opposite,  I  should  wade  into  bis  clutches,  but  I  felt  little  fear 
of  finding  one.  I  stripped  entirely,  for  I  knew  not  the  depth, 
and  I  did  know  that  the  air  was  cold,  and  that  in  wet  clothing 
for  the  remainder  of  the  night  I  might  catch  my  death.  I 
placed  my  overcoat  on  the  ground  and  in  it  I  tied  up  all  my 
other  garments,  making  as  compact  a  bundle  as  I  could ;  then 
I  tied  the  sleeves  of  my  blouse,  which  I  had  allowed  to  hang 
out  for  the  purpose,  around  my  neck  so  that  the  bundle  rested 
between  my  shoulders.  If  the  water  should  deepen  to  my 
shoulders  I  would  keep  the  bundle  above  it  with  one  hand.  I 
went  forward  as  rapidly  as  I  well  could,  yet  carefully  at  first, 
feeling  my  way  with  my  long  staff. 

The  water  was  fearfully  cold  —  so  cold  that  a  succession  of 
icy  shivers  went  through  and  through  me —  so  cold  that  I  laid 
aside  all  caution  as  to  speed,  and  waded  straight  for  the  oppo- 
site shore  —  little  need  upon  it  for  a  Confederate  vedette! 
Perhaps  I  had  been  two  minutes  in  passing  the  stream,  two 
minutes  of  suffering,  of  agony,  especially  around  those  portions 


TO  THE  WILDERNESS  FOR  WARREN          51 

of  my  body  which  were  alternately  beneath  and  above  the  sur- 
face—  for  the  air  was  colder  than  the  water.  When  at  length 
I  had  succeeded  in  crossing,  and  stood  naked  upon  the  southern 
bank,  my  suffering  became  torture.  The  cold  river  breeze  of 
near-by  dawn  upon  my  wet  body  speedily  began  to  take  away 
my  strength.  Ten  millions  of  needles  pierced  my  skin.  For  a 
second  I  thought  I  was  gone — that  I  should  never  have  strength 
to  put  my  clothes  on,  and  that  I  must  freeze  in  this  spot.  Sud- 
denly I  tore  my  bundle  undone;  —  how  I  managed  it  I  do  not 
know,  but  in  a  moment  I  had  succeeded  in  throwing  my  over- 
coat around  my  shoulders ;  then  I  dropped  sitting  to  the  ground 
and  covered  my  legs  and  feet,  the  best  I  could,  with  my  other 
garments,  wrapping  them  around  me  in  any  shape  they  would 
take. 

The  intensity  of  the  cold  was  now  followed  by  a  deathly 
sickness  at  the  stomach,  and  I  felt — although  my  reason 
assured  me  that  the  experience  was  but  transitory  —  that  I 
was  going  blind.  In  this  condition  I  was  conscious  of  no 
sound  or  sight  for  many  minutes ;  at  length  my  fear  began  to 
pass  away,  and  I  became  quite  warm,  and  had  no  distress, 
except  that  I  was  yet  sick  and  reluctant  to  make  the  exertion 
necessary  to  clothe  myself.  After  I  had  fully  dressed,  it 
required  great  effort  of  will  to  determine  upon  going  forward ; 
but  for  the  fact  that  the  terrible  water  behind  me  prevented,  I 
think  I  should  have  gone  back  to  the  bivouac  fire  of  our  cav- 
alry and  perhaps  should  have  given  up  the  enterprise. 

I  now  made  my  way  slowly  through  the  forest,  gaining 
strength  at  every  step.  Hills  were  climbed ;  logs  were  passed 
over  or  around.  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  left  of  the  fire  I  had 
seen,  and  to  the  right  of  the  Germanna  road.  The  fire  could 
not  be  more  than  three  hundred  yards,  or  four  hundred  yards 
from  me ;  the  Confederate  picket  post  on  the  road  was,  I  sup- 
posed, fully  half  a  mile  away.  That  the  two  posts  were  con- 
nected by  a  bridle-path,  if  not  by  a  road,  was  highly  probable, 
and  on  this  bridle-road  there  might  be  other  posts ;  I  must  get 


52          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

through  the  chain  of  pickets  before  day,  which  would  not  be 
long  in  coming. 

Hope  rose  within  me  when  I  thought  the  worst  was  over — 
despair  came  when  I  thought  of  the  terrible  ordeal  that  I  must 
again  go  through  on  my  return.  I  can  truly  say  that  for  the 
next  twenty -four  hours,  except  when  asleep,  thought  of  the  icy 
waters,  and  plans  to  moderate  their  severity,  were  never  out  of 
my  mind  for  one  whole  minute. 

Day  was  beginning  to  show  at  my  left  when  I  again  caught 
the  glimmer  of  fire  at  my  right  oblique;  I  crept  on  forward. 
When  I  had  the  fire  almost  exactly  on  my  right  hand,  I  saw 
a  path  before  me  —  a  narrow  and  crooked  path  made  by  horses' 
hoofs  which  had  thrown  fresh  earth  this  way  and  that.  I 
paused  and  looked  long  to  right  and  left,  and  then,  seeing 
nothing,  and  hearing  nothing,  I  ran  hastily  on  across  the  path 
through  the  woods,  and  did  not  stop  until  I  knew  that  from 
that  path  I  could  not  be  seen  by  any  patrol. 

I  was  now  in  the  enemy's  lines,  or  rather  in  the  rear  of  his 
cavalry  outposts.  Suddenly  a  thrill  of  terror  almost  over- 
came my  strength.  The  thought  that  food  would  be  helpful, 
although  it  was  not  yet  near  the  breakfast  hour,  had  made  me 
feel  at  my  side  —  my  haversack  was  not  there !  What  had 
become  of  it  ?  Had  I  failed  to  wrap  it  in  my  overcoat  when 
I  stripped  to  wade  the  river  ?  I  could  not  remember  that  I 
had  it  then.  Had  I  taken  it  off  before  I  climbed  the  trees  ? 
I  could  not  remember.  Had  I  left  it  at  Hassett's  picket  post  ? 
There  was  no  recollection  of  my  doing  so,  yet  I  believed  that 
I  had  taken  it  off  there,  and  had  come  away  forgetting  to  take 
it  again. 

The  loss  of  a  day's  food  to  most  men  is  of  little  importance  ; 
to  me  it  was  almost  a  matter  of  life  or  death.  It  was  true  that 
I  might  get  through  my  work  before  I  should  suffer  extreme 
hunger,  but  if  I  should  be  delayed  in  any  way  my  condition 
would  become  one  of  great  peril,  for  there  was  no  food  in  this 
land  except  what  the  armed  enemy  had,  and  the  little  more 


TO  THE  WILDERNESS  FOR  WARREN          53 

that  might  be  in  the  few  scattered  homes  of  inhabitants  not 
less  hostile.  Besides,  my  strength  was  waning;  I  was  already 
suffering  from  cold  and  enervation,  and  needed  food  now. 
What  would  be  my  condition  to-morrow  ?  Could  I  hold  out 
so  long  ?  Such  reasoning  and  such  fear  almost  caused  me 
to  turn  at  once  and  abandon  the  undertaking.  But  what 
would  General  Warren  say  ?  What  would  Dr.  Khayme  say  ? 
What  should  I  think  of  myself  ?  I  determined  to  go  on,  and, 
if  necessary,  to  risk  something  in  order  to  obtain  food  if  I 
could  but  know  where  food  might  be  had.  I  cursed  my  foolish 
lack  of  carefulness ;  I  had  left  behind  me  my  only  luggage, 
a  necessity  for  the  success  of  my  work.  Then,  added  to  my 
fears  of  hunger  and  consequent  exhaustion,  continued  to  rise 
in  my  mind  the  horrors  of  the  Rapidan.  How  could  I  sur- 
vive, weakened  by  twenty-four  hours'  fast,  a  repetition  of  its 
passage  ? 

Day  was  fully  here.  I  looked  around  me  —  naught  but 
unbroken  woods.  In  no  direction  could  I  see  fifty  yards. 
Large  trees  and  small  saplings,  pines  and  oaks  and  cedars 
intermingled,  the  cedars  especially  presenting  their  stiff  low 
branches  in  every  direction,  and  shutting  off  all  vision,  and 
making  progress  very  difficult.  I  listened  —  not  a  sound 
caused  by  a  human  being  or  by  his  accessories.  In  this  region 
no  woodman's  axe  rose  and  fell ;  here  no  farmer's  voice  called 
his  swine  for  their  early  corn ;  no  lowing  of  cattle,  or  crowing 
of  cocks,  or  barking  of  dogs,  or  shout  of  ploughmen  greeted  my 
ears.  Instead,  quail  were  piping,  and  squirrels  chattering,  and 
a  few  robins  pecking  at  the  cedar  berries. 

I  must  go  on.  I  diverged  from  a  straight  south  course,  seek- 
ing the  Germanna  road ;  it  could  not  be  far  away.  I  crossed 
a  small  brook  babbling  over  stones ;  on  the  next  hill  I  paused 
and  listened  again,  for  I  was  sure  that  the  road  must  run  in 
the  hollow  before  me.  There  was  no  sound,  and  I  advanced 
again,  and  soon  saw  through  the  trees  a  wide  and  longer  space 
in  which  I  knew  was  the  road  I  sought. 


54         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

The  sun  had  risen.  I  crept  up  nearly  to  the  road;  for  a 
long  distance  it  ran  straight ;  I  could  see  on  it  both  ways. 
Four  hundred  yards  to  my  rear  there  were  horsemen ;  their 
backs  were  toward  me.  At  the  south  the  road  was  clear.  I 
supposed  that  I  was  now  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  ford,  and, 
therefore,  almost  two  miles  from  Flat  Run.  I  wanted  food  and 
rest  and  warmth;  I  must  keep  going  —  that  would  at  least 
bring  warmth.  I  went  on  through  the  woods,  keeping  within 
sight  of  the  opening  which  always  told  me  where  to  find  the 
road.  At  the  edge  of  a  brook  I  knelt  and  drank  my  fill ;  at 
once  I  became  ravenously  hungry  and  full  of  despair.  I  made 
for  the  road.  I  saw  a  white  object  lying  on  it ;  I  must  know 
what  it  was.  Screened  by  the  forest  I  looked  at  the  object  — 
not  bigger  I  thought  that  an  ear  of  corn — long  and  atten- 
tively. The  stretch  of  road  was  deserted ;  I  hastily  ran  across, 
not  pausing  in  my  flight,  but  stooping  low  and  seizing  the  thing 
as  I  passed  —  it  was  corn  ! 

Now  I  was  on  the  east  of  the  Germanna  road ;  I  had  crossed 
it  for  the  reason  that  to  get  the  corn,  or  whatever  it  might 
prove  to  be,  and  return  to  the  side  whence  I  had  started,  would 
have  required  an  instant  longer  than  the  undelayed  course,  and 
I  knew  the  possibility  of  one  instant's  losing  me.  I  had  the 
corn  —  an  ear  in  the  husk,  or  shuck  —  which  I  tore  off,  and 
found  to  my  delight  a  heavy-grained  full  ear.  At  least  I  should 
not  starve. 

On  the  plantations  in  the  South  before  the  war,  the  ration, 
or  "  allowance,"  for  a  "  field  hand  "  was  a  peck  of  corn  meal 
and  three  pounds  of  bacon  a  week.  I  had  very  frequently 
heard  it  said  that  a  hundred  good  ears  would  make  a  bushel. 
I  had  therefore  in  the  rough,  a  little  more  than  the  meal  for 
a  slave's  breakfast.  I  had  no  bacon,  unfortunately,  and  in  that 
respect  was  so  much  worse  off  than  the  slave,  yet  I  was  happy 
that  I  was  no  longer  destitute.  These  thoughts  ran  rapidly 
through  my  relieved  mind.  I  write  them  here  —  trivial  they 
may  seem  to  many  —  to  emphasize  the  distress  I  had  felt  and 


TO  THE   WILDERNESS   FOR  WARREN          65 

the  relief  I  now  experienced.  I  had,  it  is  true,  but  one  meal, 
and  that  in  its  crudest  form ;  I  wanted  more ;  I  felt  that  what 
money  I  had  in  my  pocket  —  about  twenty-five  dollars  in 
currency  —  would  be  a  small  price  to  pay  for  one  more  good 
ear  of  corn. 

I  recrossed  the  road,  no  one  being  visible.  The  sun  was 
now  fully  twenty  degrees  above  the  horizon,  and  I  was  afraid 
to  lose  time  ;  I  kept  on  in  a  southeast  direction,  chewing  corn 
as  I  went. 

Some  two  miles  from  Germanna  Ford,  I  saw  a  small  clear- 
ing, and  cautiously  approached  it.  On  my  side  of  the  road 
stood  a  blacksmith  shop,  deserted.  A  log  cabin  was  near  it. 
I  went  deeper  into  the  woods  and  passed  on. 

The  day  was  growing.  I  wanted  to  complete  my  work  by 
noon.  My  journey  back  could  be  made  more  rapidly  in  the 
night,  and  with  greater  safety,  but  I  needed  sleep,  and  I  knew 
that  if  I  should  sleep  after  night  had  come  I  should  suffer 
from  cold.  I  hastened  on,  going  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  and  a 
half  an  hour.  Three  quarters  of  a  mile  or  so  beyond  the  black- 
smith shop  I  came  in  sight  of  another  clearing,  and  went  toward 
it.  There  was  a  one-room  cabin  with  smoke  rising  from  its 
chimney.  A  little  garden,  now  bare  of  vegetables,  stretched 
behind  the  cabin.  I  got  on  my  knees  and  crawled  up  to  the 
garden  fence,  and  looked  through.  In  the  garden  was  a  small 
group  —  two  women,  one  old,  the  other  of  middle  age,  a  bent 
old  man  leaning  on  a  staff,  a  boy,  and  a  girl.  My  gaze  was  at 
once  attracted  to  a  fresh  heap  of  earth  around  which  these  per- 
sons were  standing.  On  the  heap  of  earth  was  a  wooden  box 
of  peculiar  shape,  made  from  boards  of  different  length  —  a 
piece  of  patch-work.  The  box  was  not  a  coffin,  but  I  knew  at 
once,  from  the  heap  of  earth,  and  from  the  mournful  attitudes 
of  these  desolate  people,  that  the  box  was  doing  a  coffin's  ser- 
vice. The  box  was  small  —  a  coffin  for  an  infant.  The  old 
man  stood  still,  leaning  on  his  staff.  He  took  no  notice, 
seemingly,  of  what  was  being  done ;  I  saw  that  he  was  blind. 


56         A  FRIEND  WITH  THF  COUNTERSIGN 

With  rude  cords  the  two  women  lowered  the  little  coffin  into 
the  grave,  saying  nothing,  making  no  sound  except  the  noise 
made  by  the  touch  of  the  box  against  the  earth.  Then  I  saw 
one  of  the  women,  the  younger,  no  doubt  the  mother  of  the  dead 
baby,  —  I  saw  her  stoop  and  rise  again  with  a  common  hoe  in 
her  hand.  I  could  stay  no  longer. 

Yes,  every  able-bodied  man  was  in  the  Confederate  army,  or 
was  a  shirker.  It  was  a  time  in  the  South  when  it  might 
almost  be  declared  that  the  dead  buried  their  dead.  There 
was  no  minister  here  to  read  a  service ;  there  was  no  neighbour 
to  give  a  helping  hand  in  this  last  and  terrible  necessity.  But 
for  those  negroes  who  remained  faithful  to  the  last,  and  are  on 
that  account  justly  entitled  to  the  gratitude  of  the  Southern 
people  —  which,  however,  has  as  yet  taken  no  substantial  form 
generally  —  the  farms  everywhere  would  have  grown  up  in 
briers,  and  the  families  everywhere  would  not  have  been  able 
to  live.  But  in  this  region  there  were  not  even  slaves,  and  I 
wondered  how  this  family  could,  in  this  spot,  continue  to  exist. 
My  heart  was  great  with  distress,  not  for  these  persons  merely, 
but  for  the  gallant  people  —  our  own  people  —  of  our  Southern 
land.  How  long  will  it  be  before  this  thing  shall  end  ?  How 
long  before  reason  comes  back,  and  the  people  get  together  once 
more  and  live  in  peace  ? 

I  crossed  Flat  Run,  and  came  at  length  to  the  Spotswood 
place,  beyond  which  I  knew  was  the  road  I  wanted.  I  went 
round  the  field,  keeping  in  the  woods,  to  the  west,  and  found 
my  road  running  in  a  southwest  course.  I  had  seen  the  junc- 
tion with  the  Germanna  road  when  I  had  marched  in  the 
ranks  of  McGowan's  sharp-shooters.  I  took  this  road  and 
followed  it  —  always  going  in  the  same  direction.  The  road 
was  what  is  called  a  ridge  road  —  it  was  running  between  two 
valleys.  It  was  not  nearly  so  wide  as  the  Germanna  road,  but 
it  was  passable  for  an  army-corps  with  its  artillery.  Here 
and  there  I  came  to,  and  went  around,  small  clearings  with 
cabins,  but  I  avoided  the  road  at  all  times,  keeping  in  the  edge 


TO  THE   WILDERNESS   FOR   WARREN          67 

of  the  forest.     At  the  cabins  —  at  one  of  them  at  least  —  I  saw 
children. 

About  one  o'clock  I  came  to  the  top  of  a  hill  from  which  I 
could  see,  some  hundreds  of  yards  away,  a  wide  road  running 
almost  due  west.  This  I  knew  at  once  to  be  the  Orange  and 
Fredericksburg  turnpike.  My  work  was  done ;  there  was  noth- 
ing more  to  do  except  to  get  back  with  the  simple  information 
that  Warren's  corps  could  march  from  Germanna  into  the  turn- 
pike without  making  the  acute  angle  at  Wilderness  Tavern. 
How  I  wished  for  the  power  to  tell  General  Warren  at  once. 
Then  my  burden  would  be  gone,  and  I  could  lie  in  the  forest 
and  sleep.  As  it  was,  I  must  yet  suffer  great  anxiety  of  mind 
and  great  physical  torture  before  I  could  feel  free.  My  last 
grain  of  corn  had  been  eaten  —  and  that  horrible  water  behind 
me! 


VI 

THE   RETURN   FROM   THE   "WILDERNESS 

"  Weary  way-wanderer,  languid  and  sick  at  heart, 
Travelling  painfully  over  the  rugged  road, 
Wild-visaged  wanderer  !    God  help  thee,  wretched  one ! " 

—  SOUTHET. 

I  BEGAN  to  return,  keeping  nearly  in  the  course  by  which  I 
had  come.  About  two  o'clock  I  lay  down  in  a  thick  cluster  of 
undergrowth,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

Some  noise  woke  me. 

The  sun  was  low,  and  I  was  cold.  I  had  lain  down  in  a 
dense  thicket,  fully  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the  road- 
side. What  had  made  the  noise  that  I  had  indistinctly  heard 
while  awaking  ? 

I  lay  still  and  listened.  Voices  reached  me ;  yes,  I  could 
hear  voices,  but  could  not  distinguish  words. 

Did  the  voices  come  from  persons  on  the  road  ?  Hardly ; 
the  distance  was  too  great  —  unless  the  persons  were  shouting. 

I  raised  my  head  and  rested  it  on  my  left  hand  noiselessly. 
From  my  hiding-place  everything  was  hidden.  I  tried  to  deter- 
mine the  direction  of  the  voices  —  they  were  at  my  left ;  that 
is,  at  my  front  as  I  lay  there  on  my  left  side,  but  I  could  not 
tell  now  whether  the  road  was  in  that  direction,  for  I  had  lost 
my  bearings,  and  until  I  rose  to  my  feet,  should  not  know  where 
the  road  was.  I  feared  to  rise  and  look,  lest  in  seeing,  I  should 
be  seen,  so  I  remained  as  I  was,  listening  hard. 

The  voices  continued  to  reach  me  —  intermittently  rising  and 
dying  into  brief  silence.  I  was  cold  and  hungry,  and  night 
was  coming,  and  I  was  far  from  the  dreadful  river  which  I 

68 


THE  RETURN   FROM  THE  WILDERNESS       59 

would  cross  or  die  before  the  next  dawn  should  come,  but  I 
felt  that  I  must  wait.  Even  if  I  had  to  wait  till  night  fell, 
I  should  yet  have  abundant  time  to  make  my  way  to  the  river, 
for  in  the  dark  I  should  be  in  little  danger  on  the  road  itself, 
and  could  go  rapidly  until,  near  the  ford,  I  should,  through 
necessity,  take  to  the  thickets  again.  These  voices  could  be 
coming  from  none  but  the  enemy ;  a  company  of  cavalry,  per- 
haps, were  feeding,  or  had  halted  for  some  other  purpose,  near 
my  hiding-place.  No  other  supposition  was  possible  —  I  knew 
that  Confederates  were  near  me.  Yet  I  heard  none  of  the 
sounds  that  horses  make  —  no  stamping  or  kicking  or  rattling 
of  harness,  no  snorting  or  neighing ;  yet  the  horses  might  be 
farther  away. 

I  think  that  for  a  time  I  became  quite  unnerved,  for  I  sank 
back  to  the  ground  and  shivered  with  cold  and  fear.  When 
my  greatest  discomposure  had  left  me,  I  resolved  to  do  some- 
thing. I  must  crawl  away ;  I  could  at  least  do  that,  and  with- 
out difficulty.  I  turned  over  to  my  right  side,  and  slowly  rose 
to  my  hands  and.  knees;  then  I  carefully  parted  the  under- 
growth and  crept  along,  keeping  my  body  close  to  earth,  and 
making  the  least  noise  possible,  moving  so  that  I  should  not 
shake  the  branches  above  me  and  thus  betray  my  presence  to 
any  one  who  might  be  looking  toward  the  spot.  In  a  few  min- 
utes —  perhaps  five  minutes  —  I  was  clear  of  the  tangle  and 
could  make  better  progress.  The  woods  were  yet  dense,  and 
between  me  and  my  fears  I  kept  the  thicket  which  I  had  left. 
After  I  had  gone  fifty  yards,  I  crept  behind  a  log  which  was 
lying  across  my  course ;  I  lay  flat,  but  raised  my  head  to 
look,  taking  the  precaution  to  first  remove  my  hat.  I  looked 
and  listened.  Now  I  could  hear  no  voices  clearly,  although 
sounds,  which  from  my  fresh  experience  I  knew  to  be  voices, 
yet  reached  me,  but  I  could  see  smoke  between  the  high 
branches  of  the  trees  some  two  hundred  yards  away.  I 
turned  and  kept  on  for  another  fifty  yards,  then  rose  to  my 
feet,  and  began  to  walk  away  rapidly. 


60          A  FRIEND   WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

Suddenly  I  halted.  In  what  direction  was  I  going  ?  How 
could  I  learn  my  true  course  ?  The  road  —  was  it  behind  me, 
or  before  me  ?  At  my  right,  or  at  my  left  ?  I  knew  that  I 
was  somewhere  within  the  lines  of  a  triangle  made  by  three 
roads  —  but  where?  The  triangle  was  large;  it  would  soon 
be  made  larger,  for  night  would  come  and  then  I  should  be 
utterly  lost  in  The  Wilderness.  Now  I  regretted  having  for- 
saken my  hiding-place.  If  I  had  not  been  so  hasty  —  if  I  had 
but  thought  of  the  possibility  now  before  me  —  I  should  have 
remained  quietly  hidden,  and  at  night  I  should  have  reached 
the  road  beyond  the  menacing  voices  and  could  have  gone  on 
with  little  fear.  Now  I  realized  what  I  had  known  theoreti- 
cally—  that  danger  and  trial  and  any  trouble  are  all  terms  that 
are  merely  relative ;  I  wanted  the  Rapidan,  horrible  though  it 
had  been  before. 

The  sun  was  low.  I  decided  to  go  back  to  the  thicket,  and 
at  once  began  to  put  my  thought  into  execution.  But  when  I 
turned  to  go  back  I  became  terribly  certain  that  I  did  not 
know  even  the  way  to  my  former  retreat.  I  walked  fifty 
yards  and  paused ;  there  was  no  sound,  no  smoke.  I  walked 
another  fifty  yards ;  still  nothing.  If  my  course  was  right  I 
ought  now  to  be  near  the  thicket,  but  there  was  nothing  within 
my  vision  that  resembled  the  spot.  What  should  I  do  now  ? 

I  stood  and  leaned  against  a  tree  and  thought,  bitterly  at 
first,  but  soon  I  had  the  will  to  address  myself  to  the  task 
before  me.  The  sun  was  setting;  I  must  go  north;  such  a 
course  must  quickly  put  me  in  the  road  I  had  left  —  thus 
much  was  clear.  The  sun  sets  in  the  west ;  I  turned  my  face, 
stretched  my  left  hand  toward  the  sun  and  my  right  hand 
straight  before  me.  I  feared  that  the  night  would  be  cloudy. 
How  long  could  I  hope  to  keep  a  northward  course  ?  There 
would  be  no  stars  to  guide  me ;  to  find  the  north  moss  at  the 
roots  of  the  trees  would  be  an  almost  interminable  work  —  a 
work  to  be  repeated  in  darkness  at  every  ten  paces  I  should 
make.  So  I  saw  that  I  must  lose  no  time ;  I  must  get  to  the 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS   61 

road  before  the  light  went  out  in  the  west ;  and  I  went  forward 
rapidly,  incautiously  unless  speed  under  the  circumstances 
was  the  true  caution.  ...  "  Hey,  Yank,  come  in ! "  cried  a 
voice. 

I  stopped  as  if  rooted  to  the  ground.  I  could  see  no  one, 
but  I  had  before  my  eyes,  just  at  my  right,  the  thicket  in 
which  I  had  slept,  and  knew  now  that  my  road  was  at  hand. 

"  Come  on  in !  "  said  the  voice  again. 

Rapid  thoughts  go  through  my  mind.  I  have  stumbled  on 
the  party  I  sought  to  avoid.  How  have  I  so  suddenly  found 
the  road,  and  just  where  I  did  not  wish  to  find  it  ?  I  see  the 
reason:  I  have  walked  almost  west;  the  sun's  course  in 
November  is  low  in  the  south ;  it  does  not  set  in  the  west  — 
but  toward  the  southwest ;  I  have  walked  northwestward,  and 
have  walked  straight  to  the  road,  and  to  the  rear  of  the  Con- 
federates. Shall  I  run  ?  Shall  I  surrender  ? 

At  the  next  moment  the  answer  to  these  questions  became 
easy.  Two  Confederate  cavalrymen  showed  themselves,  ad- 
vancing from  behind  a  large  tree  not  twelve  paces  distant,  and 
with  their  carbines  presented.  I  said  nothing ;  I  was  afraid 
to  say  anything,  but  was  hoping  that  good  fortune  would  yet 
befriend  me,  though  I  had  no  definite  project.  I  understood 
instantly  that  my  being  unarmed  was  in  my  favour ;  perhaps 
the  men  would  think  I  was  deserting  —  yet,  if  I  was  a  deserter, 
why  had  I  not  gone  at  once  to  the  pickets  on  the  river,  instead 
of  getting  through  the  lines  ?  Perhaps  these  men  would  not 
reason  so  closely  —  perhaps  they  knew  that  their  picket-line 
was  so  thinly  stretched  that  a  man  might  pass  through  with- 
out intending  it.  At  any  rate  they  knew  that  in  all  likelihood 
no  body  of  Federal  troops  was  south  of  the  Rapidan;  an 
unarmed  and  solitary  Union  soldier  would  be  a  mystery  to 
them,  perhaps ;  I  would  bide  my  time  and  not  betray  my  real 
character ;  in  a  word  I  would  hope  for  something  to  turn  up. 

A  man  was  now  on  either  side  of  me,  looking  at  me  as  if 
expecting  me  to  say  something.  The  thought  came  that  it 


62          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

would  be  best  for  me  to  say  nothing  whatever.  I  certainly 
could  not  tell  the  truth  about  my  intentions,  yet  if  I  did  not 
I  should  be  considered  a  deserter,  and  should  be  treated 
accordingly,  and  what  the  practice  of  the  Confederates  was 
in  regard  to  the  few  deserters  who  came  into  their  lines,  I  did 
not  know,  for  during  the  whole  year  and  more  when  I  had 
been  a  Confederate,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  had  never 
seen  a  Federal  deserter.  I  would  wait  and  see  what  was  to  be 
done  with  me ;  at  the  worst,  I  felt  that  I  was  not  an  armed 
enemy,  and  that  there  would  be  no  excuse  for  these  men  to 
treat  me  with  severity. 

"  Can't  you  speak  ?  "  asked  one  of  them. 

His  words  did  not  express  his  thought,  but  they  gave  me  a 
plan.  I  made  a  motion  with  my  hand — meaning  nothing  or 
anything  they  might  take  it  into  their  heads  to  infer. 

"  He's  all  broke  up,"  said  the  other. 

Indeed  I  must  have  had  the  appearance  of  utter  exhaustion, 
and  but  little  resemblance  to  the  man  who  had  left  General 
Warren  twenty-four  hours  ago.  I  thought  I  could  strengthen 
my  plan;  I  sat  down  and  raised  my  hands  a  little,  with  a 
gesture  of  deprecation. 

"  Can't  you  say  who  you  are  ?  What  regiment  do  you  be- 
long to  ?  How  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

I  did  not  reply  or  even  look  up. 

The  men  were  standing  over  me,  the  butts  of  their  carbines 
on  the  ground.  If  it  were  but  dark,  I  thought,  I  could  spring 
to  my  feet  and  run  away  without  very  great  danger. 

"  Here,  Jim,  le's  end  this,"  said  one  of  them ;  "  take  him  on 
that  side." 

They  pulled  me  to  my  feet,  and  marched  me  staggering 
through  the  woods ;  in  a  few  moments  we  came  in  sight  of  a 
fire.  As  I  had  first  thought,  when  from  the  thicket  I  heard 
the  voices,  a  troop  of  cavalry  had  halted  here.  The  horses 
were  on  the  west  side  of  the  road,  in  a  wood  less  dense,  guarded 
by  the  greater  part  of  the  company.  There  was  only  one  fire 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS   63 

on  the  east  of  the  road ;  to  this  fire,  around  which  men  were  sit- 
ting, my  captors  conducted,  or  almost  carried  me. 

"  Hello !  "  said  a  voice,  "  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,  Lieutenant,"  said  the  man  at  my  left ;  "  we 
found  him  down  there  in  the  thicket.  He  seems  to  be  used 
up  that  bad  that  he  can't  git  his  voice." 

"  Sorry-looking  case,"  said  the  lieutenant ;  "  give  him  some- 
thing to  eat." 

Food  was  offered  me,  but  I  would  not  notice  it.  I  want  to 
say  that  this  little  act  of  refusal  was  a  very  hard  thing  to  do. 
But  by  this  time  I  had  fully  conceived  the  plan  that  I  would 
adopt.  I  must  simply  do  nothing  and  say  nothing  and  let 
these  men  infer  my  complete  exhaustion,  if  not  mental  alien- 
ation,—  so  that  I  could  get  away  at  the  right  time. 

"  The  poor  fellow  ought  to  be  sent  to  the  hospital,"  said  the 
officer. 

The  two  men  who  had  brought  me  returned  to  their  post  — 
at  least  I  supposed  so;  I  kept  my  eyes  from  wandering,  in 
order  to  raise  no  possible  suspicion  that  my  mind  was  alert, 
and  I  did  not  see  what  my  captors  did  with  themselves. 

"  Bob,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  get  a  saddle-blanket." 

I  had  already  sunk  to  the  ground,  and  was  lying  near  the 
fire.  Soon  I  felt  a  cover  thrown  over  me.  My  face  was 
toward  the  officer  and  was  uncovered.  The  men  looked  at 
me,  but  with  no  very  great  interest,  I  thought.  One  of  them 
approached  me.  "Better  try  to  eat,"  he  said.  I  made  no 
motion  or  sound.  I  could  see  the  last  light  of  day  in  the 
west.  I  wondered  that  no  suspicion  of  the  truth  was  in  the 
mind  of  any  of  the  men. 

"  Reckon  he's  the  other  one,"  said  a  voice. 

The  lieutenant  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I  think  not ;  he  said 
he  would  be  armed,  too." 

Then  a  man's  lips  came  close  to  the  lieutenant's  ear  and 
whispered  something  that  I  could  not  catch,  but  from  the 
movement  of  the  lips  and  the  cast  of  the  eye  and  the  entirety 


64          A  FRIEND   WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

of  the  procedure  I  feared  that  this  speech  was  to  put  the 
officer  on  his  guard. 

"Possum?" 

The  man  nodded  assent. 

"  Try  it  if  you  want  to." 

The  man  nodded  again. 

How  was  he  going  to  test  me?  I  remembered  stories  of 
cruelties  practised  on  prisoners  by  guerillas.  Would  he  try 
torture?  The  act  called  "playing  possum"  was  not  unknown 
to  me;  when  that  animal  counterfeits  death  he  is  easily 
aroused  by  a  sudden  deluge  of  cold  water.  The  lieutenant 
rose  and  walked  away.  I  held  my  teeth  together,  expecting  a 
bucketful  of  half -ice  to  be  poured  upon  me.  I  was  determined 
to  give  no  sign  of  self-betrayal ;  but  in  an  instant  I  could  see 
that  this  torture  was  not  to  be  feared,  for  I  was  in  no  wise  pre- 
tending entire  insensibility,  and  in  case  this  dreaded  test  should 
be  applied,  even  a  shriek  from  me  could  not  convict  me.  No, 
something  else  was  going  to  occur.  What  was  it  ?  I  tried  to 
unriddle  the  thing,  but  could  get  nothing;  I  closed  my  eyes 
and  pretended  to  sleep,  yet  not  my  eyes  entirely ;  I  could  still 
see. 

The  men  around  the  fire  were  not  talking ;  they  were  doing 
nothing.  They  were  not  cooking  even,  although  they  should 
have  been  cooking  at  this  hour.  I  inferred  that  they  expected 
to  leave  at  a  moment's  order.  While  thinking  thus,  I  observed 
a  man  rise  to  his  knees  and  crawl  away,  and  I  now  became 
aware  of  the  fact  that  I  was  alone.  All  of  the  group  had  gone ; 
the  man  I  had  seen  go  was  the  last ;  the  others  had  gone  away 
very  silently,  so  skilfully  that  I  had  not  seen  them  go.  I  saw 
through  it  all  —  saw  it  at  once.  The  manner  of  test  to  which 
I  was  subjected  was  clear;  I  was  told  in  act  that  if  I  wanted 
to  go,  now  was  my  time ;  I  did  not  believe  that  now  was  my 
time,  and  I  lay  motionless.  I  fancied  myself  the  centre  of  a 
circle  of  men  who  were  watching  me,  expecting  me  to  get  up 
suddenly  and  run  into  their  ready  clutches  to  hold  me  thence- 


THE  RETURN   FROM   THE   WILDERNESS        65 

forward  as  a  prisoner  of  war.  Reflection  had  made  me  very 
averse  to  being  considered  a  prisoner  of  war  —  not  only  on 
account  of  the  dreadful  possibility  of  being  recognized  as  a 
former  Confederate,  but  also  because,  in  the  event  of  the  dis- 
covery of  my  true  character,  General  Meade's  contemplated 
movement  might  be  suspected  and  steps  taken  to  defend  the 
fords.  I  must  lie  still;  after  a  while  suspicion  would  be 
allayed  and  the  men  would  return ;  at  the  proper  time  there- 
after, I  could  get  away,  I  hoped ;  in  the  meantime  I  must  make 
a  plan  to  escape  without  seeming  to  escape;  I  must  seem  to 
these  men  to  lose  myself,  or  in  other  words,  I  must  act  so  that 
they  would  let  me  go,  or  leave  me  here,  for  a  positive  escape 
would  kindle  suspicion  in  regard  to  my  enterprise.  That  this 
could  be  managed,  I  did  not  well  see;  in  fact,  hope  of  success 
seemed  too  small  for  any  encouragement,  but  I  knew  that  my 
body  was  weakened,  and  suspected  that  for  this  reason  my 
mind  was  now  working  but  feebly. 

Fifteen  minutes  is  a  long  time ;  perhaps  not  so  great  a  time 
had  elapsed  when  I  felt  a  hand  glide  along  my  body.  The 
hand  sought  my  pockets ;  it  took  from  them  my  knife,  my  pipe 
and  tobacco,  my  match-case  and  my  pocket-book.  While  this 
performance  was  going  on,  I  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to 
remain  as  I  was  and  make  no  movement  of  resistance ;  I  cared 
little  for  the  loss.  The  man  who  was  doing  the  act  was  a  thief 
or  a  party  to  the  scheme  evolved  for  surprising  me  into  con- 
fession; in  either  case  my  policy  was  not  to  be  changed.  I 
suppose  there  are  thieves  everywhere.  I  knew  that  Confed- 
erate soldiers  —  at  least  many  of  them  —  did  not  regard  re- 
lieving a  prisoner  of  his  valuables  as  robbery;  besides,  the 
Confederates  were  very  destitute  and  might  easily  apply  the 
excuse  of  necessity  to  an  act  which  usually  they  would  abhor. 
I  was  sure  that  these  men  were  not  intentionally  cruel ;  the 
lieutenant  had  showed  commiseration,  and  the  men  had  neither 
insulted  me  nor  injured  me  bodily.  They  had  the  stamp  of 
old  soldiers ;  doubtless  they  had  contempt  for  deserters ;  but 


66         A  FBIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

my  status  was  doubtful,  and  I  had  not  seen  —  except  at  the 
very  first  contact  with  them  —  any  indication  of  scorn,  or  in- 
deed of  anything  that  might  be  thought  to  come  from  interest 
in  me.  Yet  the  scheme  that  was  now  progressing,  whatever 
it  might  be,  was  proof  that  doubt  of  my  character  had  caused 
at  least  momentary  interest. 

After  a  while  I  became  restless.  The  feeling  was  oppressive, 
and  I  turned  over,  and  then  sat  up,  rubbing  my  eyes.  The 
blanket  had  fallen  from  me ;  uncovered  I  sat  there,  my  knees 
drawn  up  and  my  head  resting  on  them,  seemingly  unaware 
that  any  change  had  been  made  in  my  surroundings.  The 
movement  had  given  me  a  little  relief;  a  moment  more  and 
I  sank  back  again  and  lay  at  full  length.  Then  I  heard 
voices,  and  felt  the  blanket  thrown  over  me ;  I  yet  lay  quiet 
and  hoped  that  the  worst  was  over.  The  men  had  returned 
to  the  fire. 

"I'll  swear  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  him,"  said  the 
lieutenant. 

"  He's  crazy  —  plum  crazy,"  said  another  voice. 

"If  he  wasn't,  I'd  know  what  to  do  mighty  quick;  I'd  just 
send  him  back.  But  I've  got  no  man  to  spare  to  look  after 
lunatics ;  and  there  ain't  a  house  about  here  that's  fit  to  take 
him ;  the  folks  would  be  afraid  of  him ;  and  then,  we  may  get 
orders  to  move  any  minute." 

"  Wonder  why  that  man  told  us  that  lie." 

"  Don't  know  that  he  did.     Maybe  this  is  still  another." 

"Maybe  so;  this'n  looks  like  he's  been  a-wanderin'  round 
loose  in  the  woods  for  a  week." 

My  ear  was  next  the  ground.  I  thought  I  could  hear  sounds 
like  the  galloping  of  a  horse  far  away ;  a  moment  later  I  was 
sure  of  it,  and  then  from  up  the  road  toward  the  turnpike 
came  the  challenge  of  a  sentinel ;  a  short  silence  followed,  and 
a  horseman  rode  almost  into  our  midst.  The  lieutenant  had 
risen  to  his  feet ;  the  newcomer  handed  the  officer  an  envelope. 

"  Chunk  up  the  fire,  Bob,"  said  the  officer. 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS   67 

Sparks  and  flame  rose;  the  lieutenant  bent  down  and 
read :  — 

"  Ordered  to  Germanna." 

The  group  started  at  once  for  their  horses,  without  waiting 
for  any  word  of  command. 

"  Hold  on  there,  some  of  you,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

The  men  turned  and  came  back. 

I  could  very  easily  see  that  the  messenger  was  one  of  this 
company ;  he  had  taken  his  place  with  them  naturally  —  as  if 
he  felt  at  home.  Evidently  he  had  been  sent  back  somewhere 
for  orders. 

"  Corporal,  go  call  in  the  posts." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  party  was  increased  by  the  return 
of  the  sentinels.  Meantime  the  men  at  the  fires  on  the  west 
of  the  road  were  getting  ready. 

"  Sergeant,  detail  two  men  to  take  the  prisoner  back  to  the 
regiment.  Order  them  to  lose  no  time ;  to  deliver  him  to  the 
guard,  take  a  receipt,  and  then  ride  at  once  for  Germanna." 

It  was  now  fully  eight  o'clock  —  perhaps  later.  The  lieu- 
tenant had  reached  the  natural  decision  in  my  case.  I 
had  hoped  that  he  would  do  otherwise  —  that  he  would 
decide  to  take  me  to  the  ford,  and  I  was  greatly  disap- 
pointed when  I  heard  him  give  his  order.  Yet  I  com- 
forted myself  with  the  thought  that  an  escape  from  the 
regiment  at  the  rear  would  be  less  suspicious  than  from  the 
picket  at  Germanna.  As  it  was,  I  should  be  turned  over  to 
men  who  would  be  prejudiced  by  the  report  given  to  them  con- 
cerning my  helplessness,  and  who  would  therefore  not  be 
likely  to  suspect  me  at  all.  But  I  did  not  wish  to  put  any 
greater  distance  between  me  and  the  river.  My  mind  under- 
went a  sudden  change ;  I  must  get  away.  If  these  men  should 
take  me  back  to  their  regiment  I  should  not  be  able  to  report 
to  General  Warren  in  time.  Besides,  it  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  continue  much  longer  my  present  programme;  I 
must  eat  sooner  or  later,  and  must  recover  all  my  faculties. 


68         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

To  get  away  at  once  would  cause  no  greater  suspicion  than 
would  be  caused  later.  Yet  I  still  hoped  to  moderate  suspi- 
cion, if  not  to  prevent  it  entirely. 

Two  men  came  to  me,  and  pulled  me  to  my  feet.  The  officer 
looked  at  me,  shook  his  head,  and  walked  toward  the  horses, 
leaving  me  with  the  detail ;  evidently  the  lieutenant  was  yet 
in  doubt. 

On  the  west  of  the  road  there  was  the  bustle  of  preparation. 
Some  of  the  men  had  already  mounted.  I  had  heard  no  bugle ; 
these  men  were  experienced  and  required  but  a  word  passed 
from  one  to  another.  They  were  not  nearly  so  numerous  as  a 
full  company.  The  two  men,  using  a  little  force,  drew  me 
along.  My  hat  fell  from  my  head ;  they  did  not  observe  it. 
We  crossed  the  road,  in  which  the  troop  had  now  formed. 
Two  horses  were  yet  tied  to  branches  of  trees ;  the  men  led 
me  toward  the  two  horses. 

"  How  the  hell  we  goin'  to  git  him  up  ?  " 

"  I'll  mount,  an'  you  help  him  up  behind  me." 

"  All  right.     Hello !     Dam  'fe  ain't  lost  his  hat." 

The  troop  started  down  the  road  toward  the  river. 

"Say,  Bob,  you  go  back  and  git  his  hat;  it  must  be  over 
there  at  the  fire." 

The  man  who  had  spoken  this  counsel  was  already  on  his 
horse.  Bob  started  back  across  the  road,  saying,  "  Git  him  up 
while  I'm  gone,  if  you  can." 

The  mounted  man  leaned  over  and  took  me  by  my  left  arm. 

"Now,  here,"  said  he;  "don't  you  be  contrairy;  put  your 
foot  up  here,  an'  take  holt  o'  my  belt." 

I  struggled  with  him,  violently  resisting.  My  thought  was 
to  pretend  great  fear  of  the  horse.  I  pulled  and  pulled ;  with 
my  right  hand  I  pushed  against  the  horse ;  I  broke  away  and 
ran  into  the  woods. 

It  had  been  done  very  easily.  The  man  could  not  ride  into 
the  thicket  very  well ;  indeed  he  made  no  attempt  to  do  so ; 
he  called  out :  — 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS   69 

"  Come  back  here,  you  dam  fool !  The  horse  ain't  a-goin'  to 
hurt  you !  Come  back  !  Well,  dam  him,  let  him  go ;  it's  a  good 
riddance  —  but  what  in  the  hell  is  a-goin'  to  become  of  him  ?" 

I  had  halted  behind  the  first  large  tree.  I  could  not  see,  but 
I  could  hear.  The  mounted  man  did  not  move ;  he  waited  for 
his  comrade,  whose  voice  now  reached  me. 

«  Couldn't  find  it,  Bill ! " 

"  Yes,  an'  there's  more  that  you  can't  find." 

"  What  you  mean  ?  " 

"  He's  gone !  " 

Bob  had  reached  his  horse.  "Well,  sir,"  said  he;  "ain't 
this  a  come-off?  What  you  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

"  You  stay  here  till  I  come  back." 

He  moved  off  through  the  trees  and  struck  the  road.  I 
heard  the  galloping  of  his  horse  as  he  followed  hard  after  the 
troopers,  who  by  this  time  were  perhaps  half  a  mile  away.  I 
remained  behind  the  tree.  I  wanted  my  hat.  I  knew  very 
well  where  it  was.  I  wanted  to  know  what  orders  the  lieuten- 
ant would  give  in  regard  to  me.  Ten  minutes  passed  and  the 
sound  of  galloping  was  again  heard.  Bill  did  not  leave  the 
road.  He  shouted:  — 

"  Seed  anything  of  him,  Bob  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Come  on,  then ! " 

They  rode  after  the  troop.  I  listened  intently,  fearing  some 
stratagem,  but  was  soon  convinced  that  their  departure  was 
final.  They  went  away  in  a  fast  walk,  and  for  a  long  time  I 
could  hear  their  horses'  hoofs.  While  yet  these  sounds  con- 
tinued I  crossed  the  road  and  picked  up  my  hat.  Then  I 
searched  diligently  around  the  camp-fire  for  remains  of  food, 
but  found  so  little  that  it  merely  seemed  to  aggravate  my 
hunger.  Yet  it  gave  me  strength,  no  doubt,  and  the  joy  of 
being  free  gave  me  more. 

Near  the  fire  I  saw  a  small  white  object.  I  picked  it  up 
and  put  it  into  my  pocket.  It  was  a  torn  envelope. 


70         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

From  this  spot  to  Germanna  Ford  the  distance,  I  thought, 
must  be  eight  miles  at  least;  the  deflections  I  must  make 
increased  the  distance  to  ten  miles.  I  would  keep  out  of  the 
road,  for  I  must  not  risk  being  caught  by  a  man  who,  if  the 
lieutenant  had  any  suspicion,  could  easily  be  posted  for 
the  purpose  of  capturing  me.  I  knew  that  hard  work  was 
before  me ;  I  was  yet  weak,  though  I  had  had  a  long  rest.  It 
was  after  nine  o'clock ;  day  would  come  about  six ;  I  had  then 
more  than  eight  hours,  but  no  time  to  waste. 

I  set  out,  following  the  course  of  the  road,  but  keeping 
within  the  bushes  by  its  side.  I  had  to  make  more  than  a 
mile  an  hour,  and  it  was  not  always  easy  to  do  so ;  the  diffi- 
culty varied  constantly.  Sometimes  I  crept  under  low  boughs, 
and  parted  tangled  creepers  with  my  hands ;  at  other  times, 
for  short  distances,  I  had  comparatively  good  walking.  Occa- 
sionally I  crossed  the  road  when  my  side  was  too  difficult, 
hoping  that  on  the  other  I  should  find  better  ground.  At  last 
I  came  near  the  junction  with  the  road  to  Germanna ;  I  guessed 
it  was  past  midnight. 

I  crossed  the  Germanna  road,  leaving  the  Spotswood  clear- 
ing on  my  left,  and  keeping  well  within  the  forest.  Weariness 
was  telling  on  me.  I  had  begun  to  doubt  that  I  should  be 
able  to  reach  the  river,  and  to  doubt  still  more  my  power  to 
cross  it,  but  I  kept  on.  Once  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse's 
hoofs  along  the  Germanna  road,  but  at  the  time  my  way 
was  through  such  a  dense  tangle  that  I  could  see  nothing. 
Again  I  crossed  to  the  west  of  the  road.  Once  an  animal 
crept  along  the  branch  of  a  tree  almost  over  my  head ;  I  sup- 
posed it  a  wildcat  or  a  raccoon.  I  crossed  small  streams,  get- 
ting my  feet  wet,  and  my  wet  shoes  caused  increased  difficulty 
in  walking.  My  progress  became  slower ;  I  rested  frequently. 
At  last  temptation  was  too  great.  I  had  found  some  loose 
matches  in  one  of  my  pockets,  the  only  possessions  remaining 
to  me  except  my  garments.  In  a  thickly  wooded  hollow  I 
raked  together  some  leaves  and  dry  sticks  and  lighted  a  quick 


THE  RETURN  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS   71 

fire ;  before  it  had  burnt  out  I  added  just  a  little  more  fuel, 
and  thus  I  kept  the  fire  from  going  entirely  out  for  an  hour, 
perhaps,  and  until  I  had  managed  to  almost  dry  my  feet. 
When  I  determined  to  leave  this  spot  I  could  hardly  stand; 
my  joints  were  stiff,  and  my  whole  body  was  in  pain,  and  it 
was  only  the  fear  that  worse  would  come  that  enabled  me  to 
walk.  I  staggered  on  in  anguish,  recovering  slowly;  I  saw 
that  I  must  not  stop  again,  lest  I  stop  forever;  yet  I  had 
gained  by  resting,  for  my  progress  now  was  better  than  before, 
and  I  soon  knew  that  the  river  was  not  far. 

Flat  Run  was  almost  a  mile  behind  me.  I  was  passing  near 
a  garden  where  a  little  new  grave  had  been  made.  I  kept 
on  down  the  road;  it  was  now  but  two  miles  to  Germanna. 
Through  the  woods  it  could  be  only  a  mile  to  the  bend  in  the 
river.  One  mile  more,  and  then  the  fearful  repetition  —  no, 
not  repetition,  but  multiplication  —  of  the  torture  I  had  gone 
through  twenty-four  hours  ago!  Yesterday  morning  I  was 
strong  and  well  and  unwearied  —  now  what  am  I  ?  I  am, 
worn  out  with  fatigue  and  watching  and  anxiety  and  fear  and 
hunger.  Can  I  bear  it  ?  Shall  I  not  sink  in  the  effort,  and 
find  my  last  resting-place  beneath  the  cold  water  of  this  barrier 
impassable?  No  matter.  I  am  little  more  than  dead  even 
now.  I  cannot  lose  by  keeping  on.  In  a  tent  far  away  —  not 
far  in  distance,  but  unattainable  —  Lydia  is  now  quietly  sleep- 
ing, while  I,  a  wanderer,  groping  in  this  wilderness,  fear  for 
very  life  which  yet  seems  worthless  if  to  be  prolonged  through 
the  certain  terrors  that  I  must  endure.  Those  who  sleep  upon 
their  safe  beds  this  night  know  not  the  immense  good  they 
enjoy;  even  a  soldier's  bivouac  fire  is  paradise. 

At  last  I  came  where  a  stretch  of  the  Germanna  road 
allowed  me  to  see  a  light.  A  long  way  off  it  was,  and  I  knew 
that  the  Confederate  pickets  were  there,  but  it  acted  hopefully 
on  me ;  a  degree  of  courage  revived. 

I  deflected  to  the  left,  and  went  slowly  on,  making  for  the 
bend.  And  now  a  great  fear  came  on  me.  I  imagined  I  could 


72         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

see  daylight  at  my  right  hand ;  certainly  there  was  light  there. 
Had  I  rested  so  many  times  and  so  long  that  the  night  was 
already  spent,  and  must  I  reach  the  river  too  late  ?  To  cross 
by  daylight  would  be  impossible.  I  would  not  venture  to 
begin  it,  for  the  Confederate  vedettes  no  doubt  could  see  all 
the  surface  of  the  river  at  every  possible  crossing-place.  No ; 
if  this  light  betokened  day  I  could  do  nothing  more.  I  would 
lie  in  the  woods  until  another  night,  and  starve  and  suffer  — 
and  then  my  limit  would  be  passed,  and  my  report  be  made 
too  late.  Yet  I  kept  on,  and  the  light  in  the  east  did  not 
grow,  but  overhead  the  sky  was  cleared  as  the  northeast  wind 
swept  the  clouds  away  before  the  coming  of  the  morning,  and 
I  saw  the  stars  come  out,  and  knew  that  I  yet  had  time,  and 
I  wept  for  joy  as  I  went,  and  wished  for  the  river,  and  super- 
natural strength  came  upon  me,  and  unnatural  courage,  and  I 
made  my  way  rapidly  across  the  patrol  road  of  the  Confederate 
pickets  and  reached  the  stream  at  the  very  spot  where  I  had 
forded;  and  without  fear  or  haste  or  any  thought  I  waded 
boldly  in  and  went  on  across  —  and  best  it  was  that  I  went 
through  the  water  in  my  clothing  —  and  then  I  gathered  all  my 
strength  and  ran,  and  ran,  and  fell  before  the  bivouac  fire  where 
Lieutenant  Hassett  was  standing. 


VII 

WITH    GENERAL    WABBElf 

"  What  tidings  send  our  scouts  ?  I  pr'y thee,  speak."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

WHEN  I  came  to  myself  I  was  lying  in  much  comfort, 
wrapped  in  blankets.  The  sun  was  shining.  On  forks  stuck 
in  the  ground,  some  clothing  was  hanging  before  a  fire  —  gar- 
ments that  I  did  not  recognize,  so  torn  and  soiled  they  were. 
Soon  I  found  that  there  was  nothing  but  blankets  upon  my 
body.  I  made  a  movement. 

I  heard  a  voice  —  Lieutenant  Hassett's,  I  thought. 

"  Berwick,  you  are  awake  ?  " 

I  started  to  sit  up,  but  remembering  my  nakedness,  re- 
mained lying  as  I  was. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  Thank  God !  I  feared  you  would  never  wake.  How  do 
you  feel  ?  " 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Lieutenant,  I  don't  know  yet." 

"  Can  you  eat  something  ?     We  have  some  soup." 

"  I  believe  I  need  food  more  than  anything  else,  Lieutenant ; 
where  is  my  shirt  ?  " 

*  It  was  brought  to  me,  and  he  helped  me  on  with  it.  My 
head  hummed,  and  I  felt  very  sore,  but  I  was  so  hungry  that 
other  troubles  seemed  small  by  comparison.  My  clothing 
had  fully  dried,  and  I  got  it  on  quickly.  My  overcoat,  which 
I  had  worn  at  all  times  while  south  of  the  river,  had  protected 
my  blouse,  but  at  great  expense  to  itself ;  I  did  not  put  it  on, 
for  its  tails  were  gone,  and  the  rest  of  it  was  but  little  more 

73 


74          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

than  rags ;  my  trousers  from  the  knees  down  were  scarcely 
holding  together. 

"  You've  had  a  tough  time,"  said  Hassett,  when  the  job  was 
finished,  "  but  don't  think  about  it  or  talk  about  it  now.  You 
must  eat." 

I  ate  ravenously. 

"  Did  I  leave  my  haversack  here  ?  " 

"  Yes.     As  soon  as  I  discovered  it  I  began  to  fear  for  you." 

"  How  did  I  get  here  ?  " 

"  You  don't  remember  ?  " 

"  I  remember  nothing  but  running,  after  I  got  to  this  side 
of  thjfc  river." 

"  You  were  challenged  by  my  picket,  but  you  didn't  stop  a 
moment ;  you  just  ran  on  by  him.  He  had  been  warned,  how- 
ever, and  was  afraid  to  fire.  You  ran  by  him  and  came  on. 
When  he  challenged  I  rose,  for  I  was  hoping  it  was  you.  When 
I  caught  sight  of  you,  you  were  not  more  than  ten  paces  —  there, 
right  yonder  at  that  red  place — and  in  a  moment  more  you  fell." 

"  I  remember  seeing  the  fire,  and  I  remember  falling." 

"  But  you  did  not  hear  the  challenge  ?  " 

«  Not  at  all." 

"  Nor  see  the  sentinel  ?  " 

"No." 

"  How  in  the  name  o'  God  did  you  get  anything  to  eat  ?  " 

"  I  found  some  corn." 

"That  all?" 

"  All  except  a  few  mouthfuls  of  johnny-cake  at  a  camp  just 
abandoned  by  some  cavalry." 

"  I  thought  you  were  gone  up." 

"  So  did  I  —  more  than  once." 

"  Did  you  see  any  of  the  rebels  ?  n 

"  Only  a  small  party  —  about  twenty." 

"  Which  way  did  they  go  ?  " 

"  They  came  this  way.  I  suppose  they  are  over  yonder  now. 
By  the  way  —  " 


WITH   GENERAL   WARREN  76 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"I  picked  up  something/'  said  I,  feeling  in  my  pocket. 
"  Here  it  is." 

"  An  envelope  !  " 

"  Yes  —  part  of  one." 

On  the  envelope  were  only  the  letters,  Lieut.  C.  M.  Cha  — 
the  rest  of  the  paper  having  been  torn  off. 

I  handed  it  to  Hassett. 

"  What  name  would  you  make  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  —  Chatham,  Charles,  Chase,  Chancellor  — 
anything.  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him,  I  think." 

"Tell  me  about  it.  No  —  you  needn't.  Eat  on.  How  far 
did  you  walk  ?  " 

"  Oh,  about  twenty  miles,  I  suppose." 

"  Hard  country  over  there  —  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Worst  I  ever  saw." 

"  Well,  if  there's  any  secret  about  it,  don't  speak ;  but  I 
hope  you  found  out  what  was  wanted." 

"  Yes.  There  was  only  one  thing  I  was  sent  to  see,  and  I 
saw  it." 

"  By  God  !  I'll  bet  my  hat  Meade's  going  to  cross ! " 

11 1  don't  know,  Lieutenant." 

"  Berwick,  do  you  know  it's  a  good  thing  you  ran  all  the 
way  from  the  river  ?  If  you  hadn't  you'd  have  frozen  stiff." 

"  I  stripped  when  I  went  across,  and  could  hardly  find 
strength  to  put  my  clothes  on." 

"  Of  course.  If  we'd  only  thought  of  it,  it  would  have  been 
best  for  you  to  have  two  suits,  one  to  cross  in,  and  the  other 
to  put  on  afterward." 

"  But  I  didn't  bring  it,  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
hide  the  wet  clothing." 

"  True,  yet  it  might  have  been  done.  To  send  a  man  into 
that  river  on  such  a  night  is  like  sending  him  to  death." 

"  The  country  is  sending  many  of  us  to  death.  Is  my  horse 
all  r 


76          A   FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  Yes ;  I  have  had  him  looked  after.  But  you  are  not  think- 
ing of  trying  to  ride  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  must  go,  if  I  can." 

I  was  soon  mounted,  and  on  the  road,  and  although  I  was 
giddy  yet,  and  weak  and  sore,  the  work  I  was  now  doing 
seemed  delightful.  It  was  about  twelve  o'clock.  The  sun 
was  shining  on  my  back,  and  no  cold  wind  was  blowing.  The 
terrible  Wilderness  was  behind  me,  and  the  more  terrible 
river.  I  began  to  rejoice  that  my  sufferings  had  ended,  and 
that  I  could  make  a  satisfactory  report  to  General  Warren. 

Now  that  the  fearful  experience  was  past,  it  seemed  small ; 
I  had  been  south  of  the  river  for  only  one  day  and  night. 
Any  man  can  endure  hunger  and  fatigue  for  twenty-four 
hours.  What  are  twenty-four  hours  ?  How  easily  they  may 
be  counted !  Why  had  I  been  so  discouraged  at  the  loss  of 
one  day's  food  ?  Why  did  I  weaken  at  the  discovery  that  for 
a  moment  I  was  lost  ?  Anybody  ought  to  know  that  by  tak- 
ing a  straight  course  he  would  reach  some  side  of  that  small 
triangle  in  a  few  hours  at  most.  The  thing  I  had  done  was 
nothing  —  the  trials  endured  were  mostly  imaginary.  If  I 
had  it  to  do  again,  I  could  do  vastly  bet  —  No !  before  God, 
I  would  not  do  it  again  for  all  the  money  in  the  United  States 
Treasury !  You  may  talk  of  time's  being  a  mere  abstraction 
—  and  you  may  believe  it  when  trials  are  over  and  there  is  no 
anxiety,  but  I  would  not  repeat  that  one  day's  experience  for 
all  the  money  in  the  United  States  Treasury ! 

At  three  o'clock  I  reached  General  Warren's  headquarters 
near  Paoli  Mills ;  he  was  in  his  tent,  I  was  told.  Word  was 
sent  in  that  I  had  arrived,  and  I  was  ordered  to  come  in. 

The  general  looked  at  me,  and  his  countenance  fell. 

"  You  did  not  succeed  ?  " 

"  I  succeeded,  General." 

His  expression  changed  at  once. 

"  You  don't  look  like  success,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"  True,  General.     I  have  suffered." 


WITH   GENERAL  WARREN  77 

"  Tell  me  the  result,  Berwick." 

"  There  is  a  passable  road,  sir,  that  cuts  off  the  angle." 

"  You  saw  it  with  your  own  eyes  ?     No  mere  hearsay  ?  " 

"  I  saw  the  whole  length  of  it,  going  and  coming." 

"  Passable  for  artillery  ?  " 

"  Easily,  General." 

"  Where  does  it  leave  the  Germanna  road  ?  " 

"Just  beyond  the  Spotswood  place;  about  a  mile  on  the 
other  side  of  Flat  Run." 

"  Where  does  it  enter  the  turnpike  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  how  far  from  Wilderness  Tavern,  General. 
When  I  came  in  sight  of  the  turnpike  I  began  to  return.  All 
I  desired  then  was  to  get  back  to  you  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"Right.  Here,  take  this  map,  and  mark  the  road  on  it. 
You  are  sure  you  saw  the  pike  ?  " 

"  I  saw  a  wide  road  running  straight  almost  due  west  —  a 
little  south  of  west." 

I  made  an  almost  straight  line  connecting  the  Germanna 
road  and  the  Orange  and  Fredericksburg  turnpike. 

The  general  seemed  greatly  pleased.  "  At  least  two  hours 
saved,"  he  said. 

I  computed.  My  work  of  forty-eight  hours  would  save  two 
hours  to  each  of  twelve  thousand  men  —  forty-eight  hours 
against  twenty-four  thousand ;  I  was  content.  Even  if  there 
should  be  no  other  result,  the  success  was  great. 

"  Tell  me  the  nature  of  the  country,  Berwick." 

"  It  is  The  Wilderness,  General." 

"  As  bad  as  it  is  reported  ?  " 

"Impassable  for  troops,  sir,  except  upon  the  roads." 

"  Do  you  know  how  far  it  extends  westward  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

The  general  seemed  to  meditate. 

"  You  saw  no  enemy  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  men,  sir." 

"Cavalry  only?" 


78         A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Nothing  to  indicate  a  movement  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  You  have  ruined  your  clothing.  Give  me  your  height  and 
weight ;  I'll  replace  it.  Infantry  could  not  march  through 
The  Wilderness  ?  " 

"It  would  be  always  disorganized,  sir.  Even  skirmishers 
would  frequently  lose  their  ranks." 

"Berwick,  I  wish  you  had  seen  whether  that  road  crosses 
the  turnpike." 

"  I  had  no  orders  to  do  so,  General." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  and  you  did  right  to  return  at  once.  How 
is  the  ford  ?  " 

"  At  Germanna,  sir  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  do  not  know,  General.     I  crossed  above  Germanna." 

"  Above  Germanna  ?     At  Jacobs's  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  in  the  woods  between  the  two." 

"  And  you  found  a  fordable  place  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  Could  troops  be  thrown  over  where  you  crossed  ?  " 

"Not  easily,  sir  ;  roads  are  lacking." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  fording  Germanna  ?  Can  it  be 
done  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  hazardous,  sir." 

"  On  what  account  ?  " 

"Because  of  the  depth  of  the  water,  sir,  and  its  temper- 
ature." 

"  Very  cold  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  a  weak  man  could  not  stand  it." 

"That  will  do,  Berwick." 


VIII 

WITH   THE    DOCTOB 

"  She  cast  her  wit  in  sondry  wise  — 
How  she  him  mighte  so  desguise, 
That  no  man  shulde  his  body  knowe."  — GOWER. 

I  RODE  on  to  Dr.  Khayme's.  Lydia  was  at  the  door  of 
the  tent,  with  a  wan  smile  on  her  white  face.  My  wretched 
appearance  gave  rise  to  anxiety ;  even  the  Doctor  appeared  to 
be  alarmed,  for  he  ordered  me  to  go  to  bed  at  once,  and  gave 
me  something  to  swallow.  I  slept  the  whole  night. 

On  the  next  morning  I  was  ordered  to  report  to  General 
Warren,  at  5  o'clock  A.M.  of  the  23d. 

Dr.  Khayme,  as  well  as  I,  believed  that  a  great  move- 
ment would  begin  on  the  morrow.  What  was  wanted  of  me 
was  not  clear,  but  we  supposed  that  I  should  be  required  to 
guide  the  head  of  Warren's  column  from  the  ford  to  the  turn- 
pike by  the  road  which  I  had  examined. 

"  Afterward  more  will  be  wanted,"  said  the  Doctor. 

He  went  out  for  a  moment,  and  returned  with  some  clothing 
on  his  arm. 

"  Here  is  the  thing  for  you,"  said  he ;  "  it  is  Lydia's  thought 
and  work." 

There  were  three  garments  —  coat,  overcoat,  and  trousers; 
each  was  gray  on  one  side  and  blue  on  the  other.  Simply 
by  turning  the  sleeves,  a  blue  garment  became  a  gray  one. 
The  coat  was  a  half  blouse,  or  pea-jacket,  a  little  longer  than 
the  Confederate  garment,  and  not  quite  so  long  as  the  Union 
blouse.  The  gray  overlapped  the  blue  at  the  collar  and  else- 

79 


80          A   FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

where.  The  overcoat  was  made  in  much  the  same  way.  The 
buttons  —  alternate  sets  —  were  secured  with  rings. 

"  I  hardly  think  there  will  come  many  times  when  a  gray 
overcoat  is  needed,  Doctor,"  I  said.  "  Every  Confederate  al- 
ready wears  a  blue  one,  if  he  can  get  it.  You  and  Lydia  over- 
whelm me ;  this  changeable  uniform  is  just  what  I  may  need 
to-morrow.  Now,  if  you  could  only  tell  me  where  I  could 
safely  keep  General  Meade's  authority  to  pass  our  pickets,  I 
should  want  for  nothing." 

"  In  good  time  you  shall  have  what  you  wish,"  he  replied. 

"Doctor,"  said  I,  "if  I  should  ever  be  compelled  to  stay 
a  long  time  in  the  Confederate  lines,  it  would  require  very 
careful  conduct  to  avoid  showing  the  inside  of  this  coat." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  but  the  two  sides  can  be  separated.  You 
could  manage  at  night  to  throw  away  the  blue  uniform.  Feel 
these  knots.  Take  this  one  and  pull  it." 

The  knot  seemed  to  be  the  end  of  a  cord  which  extended 
round  one  of  the  sleeves  at  the  wrist.  There  was  a  small  hole 
in  the  cloth  through  which  the  knot  was  showing ;  my  pulling 
the  cord  brought  the  sleeve  together,  forming  a  bag. 

"  Now,  if  you  cut  this  other  knot  the  two  sleeves  will  come 
apart,"  said  the  Doctor,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word.  The 
two  sleeves  were  now  separate.  Inside  each  wrist  the  hem 
had  been  doubled  under,  and  in  each  were  small  eyelets  through 
which  the  cord  had  passed. 

"  I  should  not  advise  you  to  take  the  garments  apart  unless 
under  great  necessity.  To  restore  this  sleeve  I  must  now  do 
this." 

He  pulled  a  cord  from  the  tail  of  the  coat,  thrust  his  hand 
between  the  two  parts,  and  turned  the  sleeve.  Then  he  rapidly 
ran  a  cord  through  the  eyelets  at  the  wrist,  tied  the  knots, 
turned  the  sleeve  again,  and  put  back  the  cord  at  the  skirt. 

"It  will  be  a  peculiar  condition  that  compels  you  to  go 
through  this  performance,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Wear  a  thick 
woollen  scarf  round  your  neck,  and  nobody  can  tell  where  thf 


WITH   THE  DOCTOR  81 

blue  and  gray  meet.  You  see  the  blue  garment  is  really 
smaller  than  the  gray.  The  purpose  of  the  gray  is  disguise, 
but  the  purpose  of  the  blue  is  only  etiquette.  If  a  Union 
soldier  happens  to  see  gray  overlapping  blue  he  can  do  you 
no  harm." 

The  Doctor  knew  my  extreme  aversion  to  being  gazed  upon. 

"  Doctor,  I  shall  take  the  old  Enfield,"  said  I. 

He  seemed  surprised  at  this  speech,  and  I  added  hastily  — 
"  Only  for  display.  Where  is  the  gun  ?  " 

"  In  my  supply  tent,"  said  he. 

I  soon  had  brought  it,  with  the  cartridge-box  and  canteen 
and  haversack. 

"  Here,  Doctor,  see  what  I  mean  to  do,"  said  I. 

I  tore  a  cartridge,  threw  the  powder  away,  and  rammed  the 
bullet  down,  and  continued  ramming  until  I  knew  that  the 
chamber  was  tightly  rilled  with  beaten  lead. 

"  Now,"  said  I ;  "  I  can  pop  as  many  caps  as  anybody." 

"  But  would  not  some  one  detect  the  truth  ?  " 

"  If  so,  I  could  at  once  begin  to  get  the  gun  into  proper 
shape ;  men  frequently  clean  their  guns ;  I've  seen  them  do 
it  while  a  skirmish  was  going  on." 

"  Well,"  said  he ;  "  you  know  that  I  dislike  any  part  of  a 
fire-arm  —  or  any  weapon." 

Lydia's  fears  for  me  had  been  very  noticeable.  I  had  not 
thought  it  best  to  give  my  friends  the  details  of  my  experience 
south  of  the  river,  but  my  exhaustion  and  evident  suffering 
could  not  have  escaped  her,  and  I  was  sure  she  was  prevented 
from  expressing  her  anxiety  by  the  consideration  of  the  futility 
of  doing  so.  She  was  a  woman  of  strong  reason  and  great 
balance;  the  future  oppressed  her,  no  doubt,  yet  she  knew 
that  my  honour  as  a  soldier  and  as  a  man  was  at  stake,  and 
that  to  show  weakness  would  not  tend  to  give  me  strength ; 
she  knew  that  I  had  gone  through  many  dangers  and  trials, 
and  that  before  me  were  many  more,  perhaps  greater  dangers, 
and  it  would  have  been  no  cause  for  wonder  on  my  part  if  she 


82         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

had  broken  down  and  given  utterance  to  her  feelings.     I  knew 
that  she  suffered  far  more  than  she  showed  by  manner  or  word, 
for  although  she  tried  to  be  cheerful  her  nervousness  at  times 
betrayed  her.     On  this  night  she  was  greatly  depressed. 
******* 
The  movement  for  the  23d  was  postponed  in  consequence  of 
bad  weather;   I  was  ordered  to  be  ready  to  attend  General 
Warren's  advance  for  Thursday,  the  26th  of  November. 


IX 

TO   MINE   KUN 

*'  We'll  meet  these  Southron  bravely  hand  to  hand, 
And  eye  to  eye,  and  weapon  against  weapon."  —  SCOTT. 

THE  camps  were  astir ;  the  general's  aides  were  hurrying  to 
and  fro,  amidst  the  bustle  of  an  army  preparing  to  march.  I 
was  clad  in  my  double  garments ;  on  my  lap  lay  the  Enfield, 
and  I  was  fully  accoutred ;  a  blanket  folded  lengthwise  and 
tied  into  a  loop  was  hanging  at  my  saddle ;  in  my  haversack 
was  the  field-glass  which  General  Morell  had  given  me  in 
May,  '61. 

It  was  not  until  half-past  six  that  the  march  began.  The 
advance  was  led  by  a  hundred  New  York  cavalrymen  under 
Captain  Schwartz,  at  whose  left  I  was  ordered  to  ride.  Behind 
the  cavalry  came  a  long  train  of  wagons,  laden  with  pontoons 
and  timbers  for  bridges.  Down  hill  and  up  hill  on  the  Ger- 
manna  road  we  went ;  and  after  us,  from  one  hill  to  another, 
we  could  see  marching  the  long  infantry  lines  of  the  Second 
corps,  —  Hancock's  corps,  now  temporarily  under  command  of 
Warren,  considered  by  many  the  military  genius  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac. 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  the  head  of  the  column 
reached  the  high  ground  overlooking  the  ford  at  Germanna. 
The  pioneer  corps  at  once  set  to  work;  a  road  was  cut 
through  the  timber  and  a  battery  planted  right  and  left  of 
the  road.  The  corps  was  massing  in  our  rear. 

At  about  eleven  o'clock,  General  Meade  rode  up  and  held  a 
short  consultation  with  Warren ;  then  orders  came  to  Captain 

83 


84          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Schwartz  to  cross  the  stream.  The  water  came  halfway  up 
my  stirrup  straps.  The  crossing  of  the  cavalry  was  quickly 
made,  and  the  foremost  files  galloped  up  the  hill,  which  the 
Confederate  pickets  abandoned  without  attempting  resistance. 
Captain  Schwartz's  command  now  advanced  in  column  slowly 
into  The  Wilderness.  At  times,  on  the  road  before  us,  the 
Confederate  pickets  could  be  seen  retiring. 

After  advancing  two  miles,  the  captain  halted  his  men  and 
sent  me  back  for  further  orders.  When  I  reached  the  river 
the  pontoons  were  being  laid.  A  few  regiments  of  infantry 
had  forded ;  the  men  of  these  regiments  were  huddled  around 
fires,  drying  their  clothing  and  bitterly  complaining  of  the  cold, 
and  of  the  fact  that  their  cartridges  were  wet.  The  artillery 
were  crossing  at  the  ford ;  the  divisions  of  the  corps  were  on 
the  north  bank  waiting  for  the  completion  of  the  bridge. 

I  reported  to  General  Warren  and  asked  for  orders. 

"  Where  is  Captain  Schwartz  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  little  more  than  two  miles  in  front,  sir." 

"  How  far  from  Flat  Run  ?  " 

"  About  one  mile,  General." 

"Tell  him  to  cross  Flat  Run,  and  to  advance  to  the  road 
you  were  on.  Then  he  must  throw  out  strong  pickets  on  both 
roads  and  must  hold  the  junction." 

I  galloped  back  to  Captain  Schwartz,  and  the  cavalry  moved 
slowly  forward.  After  crossing  Flat  Run  our  advance  was 
very  cautious  until  we  reached  the  junction;  there  we  could 
see  small  parties  of  the  enemy's  cavalry  on  both  roads.  Evi- 
dently the  Confederate  pickets  were  in  doubt  as  to  which  of 
the  roads  we  should  take,  and  would  not  finally  retire  from 
either  until  they  should  learn  our  intention. 

"  What  will  the  weather  do  for  us  to-night,  Berwick  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  will  be  fair,  Captain." 

"  General  Warren  wants  both  roads  picketed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  think  he  does  not  wish  to  show  his  intentions 
to  th«  enemy." 


TO  MINE  RUN  85 

"  You  see  those  fellows  yonder  ?  They  are  lingering  only 
for  the  purpose  of  learning  what  we  intend.  I'll  keep  most 
of  my  men  on  the  main  road." 

I  thought  the  captain's  plan  very  good,  and  told  him  so. 

By  nightfall  the  infantry  were  in  bivouac  in  the  woods  bor- 
dering Flat  Run,  the  artillery  occupying  the  road  itself;  we 
could  see  the  glow  of  the  many  camp-fires  in  our  rear,  and 
knew  that  the  Confederate  pickets,  also,  could  see  it.  At  nine 
o'clock  Captain  Schwartz  received  sealed  orders  from  General 
Warren.  The  night  passed  without  alarm ;  I  slept  soundly. 

At  daylight  on  the  27th  the  pickets  on  the  Germanna  road 
were  withdrawn,  and  the  column  advanced  on  the  road  to  the 
right.  I  was  yet  with  Captain  Schwartz.  Nowhere  on  this 
road  did  we  see  an  enemy,  but  at  nine  o'clock,  as  we  debouched 
into  the  Orange  turnpike,  a  squad  of  cavalry  was  seen  retiring 
toward  the  west. 

My  work  as  guide  had  now  ended ;  the  roads  and  country 
further  to  the  west  were  unknown  to  me.  I  rode  back  to  the 
head  of  the  infantry  column,  and  reported  to  General  Warren ; 
he  ordered  me  to  remain  near  him.  The  column  continued  to 
march  up  the  Orange  pike,  Hays's  division  leading  the  infantry. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  as  we  were  nearing  Robertson's  Tavern, 
or  Locust  Grove,  as  the  Confederates  called  it,  the  column 
came  to  a  dead  halt,  the  cavalry  before  us  sitting  motionless 
on  their  horses.  Captain  Schwartz  reported  that  a  line  of 
skirmishers,  infantry  or  dismounted  cavalry,  could  be  seen 
drawn  across  the  road  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  front  —  that  they 
had  been  advancing,  but  were  now  halted. 

Immediately  two  regiments  of  infantry  were  moved  forward, 
and  when  at  the  head  of  the  cavalry,  were  deployed  in  a  double 
skirmish-line  —  then  the  whole  corps  moved  on  with  skirmishers 
in  front  and  on  both  flanks.  In  half  an  hour  the  fire  of  rifles 
broke  out  in  the  woods  in  our  front ;  the  column  continued  to 
move;  evidently  the  Confederate  skirmishers  were  being 
driven.  A  few  prisoners  had  been  captured ;  one  of  General 


86         A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Warren's  aides  questioned  them,  and  gathered  from  their 
replies  that  Ewell's  corps  was  in  our  front,  and  moving  to  our 
right. 

It  had  been  expected  by  General  Warren  that  the  Third 
corps  would  by  this  time  connect  with  his  right ;  it  had  crossed 
at  Jacobs's  Ford  with  great  difficulty  and  delay,  and  for  lack  of 
a  guide,  had  taken  the  wrong  road  ;  the  movement  reported  to 
our  right,  therefore,  became  a  source  of  great  uneasiness,  and 
the  general  ordered  me  to  go  into  the  woods  on  our  right  and 
bring  him  a  report  of  the  condition  there. 

Leaving  my  horse  in  the  care  of  an  orderly,  I  went  forward 
through  the  woods  until  I  struck  our  skirmishers.  There  was 
no  enemy  visible.  I  moved  along  the  rear  of  the  skirmishers 
toward  our  right.  An  officer  stopped  me  and  demanded  my 
business  there,  but  was  convinced  without  trouble  that  I  was 
on  service  for  General  Warren.  I  found  our  right  refused ;  at 
the  end  of  the  line  firing  could  be  heard  far  to  the  northeast, 
almost  in  front  of  our  flank.  There  had  been  a  movement  of 
the  enemy's  skirmishers  to  our  right,  and  this  movement  had 
caused  the  formation  of  our  flank  as  I  now  saw  it,  but  the  Con- 
federates were  already  falling  back ;  I  hastily  returned  to  the 
general. 

Now  the  whole  skirmish-line  was  ordered  to  continue  its 
advance.  Brisk  firing  was  heard  in  front,  and  a  short  move- 
ment forward  was  made  by  the  column  on  the  turnpike.  Soon 
the  firing  ceased,  and  everything  was  at  a  halt.  Some  pris- 
oners had  been  taken  from  Gordon's  brigade  of  Early 's  divi- 
sion —  Lawton's  old  Georgia  brigade. 

General  Warren  was  perplexed.  Ewell's  corps  was  doubt- 
less in  his  front,  and  would  dispute  every  inch  of  our  advance. 
The  general  feared  that  a  successful  attack  at  this  time  could 
not  be  made.  He  had  hoped  to  march  entirely  through  The 
Wilderness  into  the  more  open  ground  of  Orange  County  before 
he  should  find  his  advance  resisted  by  the  enemy's  infantry ; 
this  was  the  consideration  which  made  him  value  so  highly 


TO  MINE  RUN  87 

the  knowledge  of  the  road  by  which  he  was  enabled  to  save 
two  hours'  time.  The  firing  of  cannon  had  been  heard  at  our 
left,  coming,  no  doubt,  from  the  Plank  road,  which  we  knew  to 
be  some  two  miles  to  the  south ;  but  we  did  not  then  know  that 
our  cavalry  under  Gregg  was  there.  It  was  now  about  four 
o'clock. 

Again  General  Warren  ordered  me  to  go  to  the  skirmish-line 
and  bring  him  word  as  to  the  situation.  The  skirmishers  could 
tell  me  nothing  except  that  an  advance  of  fifty  yards  would  find 
the  enemy  in  force.  I  made  that  advance,  and  found  no  enemy, 
but  crawling  on  a  few  yards  farther  I  came  in  sight  of  a  line 
of  Confederates  in  the  woods,  not  a  line  of  great  force  —  only 
a  mere  skirmish-line  behind  trees,  the  men  squatted  down, 
alert,  with  faces  to  the  front.  They  looked  as  ready  for  a 
scrimmage  as  ever  Confederates  had  looked ;  I  saw  from  their 
contented  attitudes  that  they  had  no  disposition  to  retire  fur- 
ther, and  guessed  that  their  battle  line  was  close  in  their  rear. 

I  reported  to  General  Warren.  Another  advance  was  ordered. 
The  wood  in  our  front  was  noisy  with  rifles  ;  our  skirmishers 
did  not  push  the  enemy,  and  another  line  was  ordered  to  their 
support.  This  help  enabled  the  men  to  drive  the  Confederates ; 
the  sound  of  firing  receded  a  little,  and  then  everything  became 
quiet.  An  officer  from  the  front  reported  to  General  Warren 
that  the  enemy's  skirmishers  had  retired  to  their  main  lines, 
which  could  now  be  seen  strongly  intrenched  in  the  woods. 
The  divisions  of  the  corps  formed  line  of  battle,  and  lay  on 
their  arms  throughout  the  night. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  rain  began.  The  line  of  battle 
went  forward  and  passed  over  the  breastworks  of  the  enemy, 
who  had  abandoned  the  position.  The  advance  of  the  skir- 
mishers continued  until  they  again  found  the  enemy  in  force 
behind  a  crooked  stream  running  through  the  woods.  The 
rain  continued  to  fall,  and  with  few  intervals  fell  all  day  — 
cold  and  thick.  At  nine  o'clock  General  Warren  in  person  led 
a  reconnaissance  in  front  of  the  enemy's  works  ;  the  result  was 


88          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

a  number  of  men  killed  and  wounded,  and  nothing  discovered 
to  change  the  view  already  entertained  that  Lee's  army  was 
before  us  in  a  position  too  strong  to  be  carried. 

In  the  afternoon  General  Meade  and  General  Warren  had 
a  long  interview. 

At  night  General  Warren  called  for  me ;  he  said,  "  Berwick, 
I  want  you  to  get  all  the  rest  you  can  now;  you  will  be 
required  to  do  hard  work  to-morrow." 

"  Very  well,  General." 

"  You  know  nothing  of  the  country  at  our  left  ?  " 

"  All  that  I  know,  General,  is  that  the  Plank  road  is  out  there 
somewhere,  and  that  the  country  is  very  much  like  this." 

"  No  cross  roads  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  that  there  are  none,  sir;  but  I  judge  there  are 
no  very  important  ones.  Of  course  there  is  that  road  we  saw 
at  Robertson's  Tavern." 

"  Come  here,"  said  he,  and  led  the  way  until  we  stood  under 
a  thick  cedar.  The  rain  kept  up,  and  from  the  boughs  big 
drops  were  falling ;  it  was  getting  colder,  and  I  feared  that  the 
morning  would  find  the  land  covered  with  ice. 

The  general  took  from  his  pocket  a  piece  of  paper  and  un- 
folded it ;  it  was  a  sketch  of  the  country.  Night  was  setting 
in  dark  and  stormy ;  I  had  difficulty  in  making  out  the  lines 
on  the  paper. 

"  Get  back  here,"  he  said,  putting  his  finger  on  Robertson's 
Tavern;  "get  back  here  to-morrow  at  daylight.  Take  this 
road  and  get  into  the  Plank  road ;  then  follow  the  Plank  road 
until  you  are  near  the  enemy ;  then  move  to  your  left  and  find 
where  their  right  rests ;  it  is  somewhere  near  the  Plank  road 
but  beyond  it  perhaps." 

"  Start  at  daylight,  General  ?" 

"  Yes ;  the  corps  will  move  behind  you." 

"  How  shall  I  report  ?    How  often  ?  " 

"  I  don't  catch  your  idea,  Berwick." 

"  If  I  go  alone,  General,  I  can  report  only  once,  perhaps." 


TO  MINE  RUN  89 

'*  Take  as  many  men  as  you  wish." 

«  Six  will  do,  sir." 

"They  will  report  to  you  in  half  an  hour.     Caralry  you 

want?" 
«  Yes,  sir." 

"  Now  tell  me  what  you  propose." 

"I  shall  keep  them  together,  General,  until  I  have  some- 
thing to  report,  and  send  them  back  to  you  one  at  a  time  as 
fast  as  I  find  out  anything.  You  will  meet  five  men  bringing 
you  information  of  conditions  in  your  front." 

"  Good !     But  the  sixth  —  and  the  seventh  ?  " 

"  You  will  not  see  the  sixth  until  you  are  in  position  on  the 
left.  I  shall  keep  the  last  man  to  make  an  emergency  report, 
before  I  find  it  necessary  to  go  alone." 

"  A  good  plan,  Berwick ;  I  understand.  But  since  the  men 
are  to  return  one  by  one,  I  must  see  to  it  that  they  are  good 
men.  I'll  send  them  to  you  myself  —  or  get  Colonel  Walker l  to 
do  it.  Now,  look  out  for  yourself,  Berwick." 

Before  I  slept,  everything  had  been  arranged.  The  six  men 
reported,  and  were  ordered  to  remain  together  at  a  bivouac  fire 
in  rear  of  Webb's  division.  On  Sunday  morning,  just  before 
dawn,  we  began  the  march.  Robertson's  Tavern  was  soon 
reached,  and  we  turned  to  the  south,  —  a  little  west  of  south, 
making  for  the  Orange  and  Fredericksburg  Plank  road  at  New 
Hope  Church,  where  we  found  pickets  of  Gregg's  cavalry 
division. 

We  turned  west  toward  Orange.  Knowing  that  the  corps 
behind  us  could  not  be  making  more  than  half  as  great  speed 
as  ours,  I  took  pains,  as  we  went,  to  examine  every  available 
position,  but  lost  time  unnecessarily  by  doing  so,  as  nowhere 
for  a  long  distance  did  we  find  much  more  than  woods.  On 
the  day  and  night  preceding,  there  had  been  a  cavalry  engage- 
ment on  the  road,  but  now  both  parties  had  retired  or  had 

1  Francis  A.  Walker,  Assistant  Adjutant-General  of  the  Second  corps.    [Ed.] 


90          A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

moved  off  farther  upon  the  flank.  At  ten  o'clock  we  could  see 
at  our  left  the  grading  of  a  railroad  running  parallel  with  the 
Plank  road.  I  placed  a  man  near  the  edge  of  the  railroad 
grade,  and  directed  him  to  advance  as  we  advanced,  and  keep 
a  sharp  watch  toward  his  left.  Soon  the  railroad  grade 
diverged  to  the  south,  and  I  recalled  the  man,  whom  I  sent 
back  to  General  Warren,  to  report  that  we  had  advanced  two 
miles  beyond  New  Hope  Church,  and  especially  to  report  the 
existence  of  the  railroad  grade.  A  mile  farther  and  we  came 
to  the  crest  of  a  hill  from  which  we  could  see  a  small  stream 
before  us.  I  supposed  it  was  one  of  the  branches  of  Mine  Run. 
We  were  yet  going  forward,  and  descending  the  hill,  when  the 
whistle  of  a  bullet  was  heard,  and  the  crack  of  a  carbine,  and  a 
cavalryman  galloped  off  and  up  the  hill  beyond.  At  the  report 
of  the  gun  I  had  ordered  my  men  to  run  back  in  a  disorderly 
way,  but  when  we  were  out  of  sight  we  returned  through  the 
woods  to  the  hill.  Now  I  sent  back  word  to  General  Warren 
that  we  had  struck  the  enemy's  cavalry  pickets. 

A  man  was  left  in  the  woods  near  the  top  of  the  hill  to  guard 
the  horses;  another  was  sent  forward  through  the  woods  a 
hundred  yards  down  the  hill,  and  was  ordered  to  remain  there 
on  watch  until  recalled;  with  the  two  others  I  plunged  into 
the  woods  on  the  left,  and  went  in  a  southerly  direction,  cross- 
ing the  railroad  and  keeping  on  beyond  it  for  three  hundred 
yards.  At  this  point  I  sent  another  man  back  to  General 
Warren.  With  the  other  man,  Ramsey,  I  turned  square  to  the 
west,  and  soon  reached  the  top  of  the  hill ;  beyond  it  was  a 
wooded  hollow  which  I  believed  a  continuation  of  the  valley 
we  had  seen  from  the  road  when  we  were  fired  on.  Here  I 
halted  and  remained,  while  Ramsey  went  back  to  bring  up  the 
two  men  and  the  horses. 

Knowing  that  Ramsey  would  be  gone  long,  as  the  woods 
were  thick  and  progress  with  horses  must  be  slow,  I  looked 
about  for  a  high  tree,  and  was  soon  in  its  branches ;  but  I  could 
see  nothing  in  front  except  unbroken  forest.  Far  to  the  south 


TO   MINE  RUN  91 

was  an  open  space  which  I  supposed  a  farm,  and  to  my  right 
oblique  I  could  see  a  roof,  perhaps  half  a  mile  away.  I  judged 
that  this  roof  was  at  Reynolds's  tan-yard,  laid  down  on  the  map. 

Ramsey  returned  with  the  two  other  men.  One  of  them  was 
directed  to  note  carefully  this  spot ;  I  pointed  out  to  him  the 
tall  tree  and  other  peculiarities  of  the  ground,  and  impressed 
upon  him  the  importance  of  being  able  to  guide  our  men  to 
this  place  if  General  Warren  should  decide  to  occupy  it.  He 
was  then  ordered  to  ride  to  General  Warren. 

Now  I  was  left  with  Ramsey  and  one  other  man  —  Kemp. 
I  stole  forward,  directing  Ramsey  to  follow  me  at  the  greatest 
distance  at  which  he  could  keep  me  in  sight,  leading  his  horse, 
and  Kemp  to  follow  Ramsey,  leading  two  horses.  Ramsey  was 
perhaps  never  more  than  fifty  yards  behind  me ;  he  had  ample 
time  to  make  his  way,  as  my  progress  at  the  front  was  exceed- 
ingly slow.  In  places  there  was  little  undergrowth  for  very 
short  distances,  and  here  I  paused  long  and  looked  well.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  hill  ran  a  brook  over  which  I  easily  passed. 
I  fancied  that  on  the  next  hill  I  should  be  able  to  hear  the 
Confederates,  if  not  to  see  them,  but  I  went  on  and  reached  the 
crest,  and  could  see  or  hear  nothing.  I  waited  till  Ramsey 
could  be  clearly  seen,  and  waved  my  hand  to  him  to  halt. 
Then  I  went  back  to  him,  and  motioned  to  Kemp  to  come  up, 
and  directed  the  two  to  remain  where  they  were  until  further 
orders. 

In  order  to  make  better  progress,  for  I  knew  that  I  should 
soon  be  compelled  to  crawl  on  my  hands  and  knees,  I  now  left 
the  Enfield  with  Ramsey.  I  went  up  the  hill  again ;  at  its  top 
I  paused  and  considered.  I  was  certainly  on  the  flank  of  the 
Confederate  army  unless  it  had  been  thrown  back  here ;  in 
that  case  my  further  progress  toward  the  west  would  be  along 
its  southern  front.  I  went  forward  fifty  yards,  saw  nothing, 
and  returned  to  the  spot  I  had  just  left ;  then  I  went  a  hun- 
dred yards  to  the  south  and  saw  nothing ;  then  I  went  a  hun- 
dred yards  to  the  north,  found  nothing,  and  returned  rapidly 


92          A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

to  Kemp  and  Ramsey,  whom  I  brought  up  to  the  top  of  the 
hill. 

Kemp  was  stationed  with  the  three  horses,  and  Ramsey  was 
directed  to  follow  me  at  thirty  yards'  distance.  I  made  my 
way  toward  the  northwest,  creeping  half-bent  sometimes,  at 
other  times  standing  behind  a  tree  and  listening,  and  at  times 
almost  crawling.  I  judged  that  I  had  come  two  hundred  yards 
from  Kemp,  and  was  wondering  when  the  thing  would  end, 
when  I  saw  more  light  between  the  branches  of  the  trees, 
and  I  guessed  that  there  was  a  clearing  or  a  valley  before  me. 
I  kept  on  and  soon  saw  what  caused  the  greater  light ;  it  was 
the  opening  at  the  railroad  grade;  in  the  woods  beyond  all 
seemed  as  quiet  as  though  there  were  not  a  Confederate  this 
side  of  Orange  Court-House.  I  waited  for  Ramsey  to  come 
up,  and  ordered  him  to  go  back  to  Kemp  and  bring  everything 
to  this  point. 

Now  I  looked  long  up  and  down  the  railroad,  and  then  ven- 
tured across  and  kept  on  through  the  woods.  In  five  minutes 
I  came  to  an  opening.  I  was  on  the  brow  of  a  hill ;  before  me 
was  a  valley  through  which  was  running  a  road  that  I  supposed 
was  the  Plank  road.  Northeast  from  me  some  hundreds  of 
yards  was  a  cluster  of  buildings  which  I  supposed  were  at  the 
tan-yard.  A  few  horses  were  near  the  buildings,  and  I  knew 
they  must  belong  to  the  Confederates.  I  returned  to  the  men, 
and  together  we  all  came  up  to  the  spot.  Then  I  talked  seri- 
ously to  Kemp,  and  the  good  fellow  responded  earnestly,  show- 
ing that  he  was  alert.  He  could,  he  asserted,  guide  any  of  our 
men  to  this  place,  even  by  the  circuitous  route  which  we  had 
followed.  He  left  us ;  now  we  were  but  two. 

At  my  left  the  cleared  land  extended  but  a  short  distance. 
The  slope  of  the  valley  reached  its  highest  point  where  the 
field  touched  the  forest,  which  in  a  semicircle  shut  in  this 
space  on  the  southwest.  By  moving  along  the  edge  of  the 
woods  I  could  soon  reach  the  road  and  be  at  the  rear  of  the 
tan-yard ;  at  the  road  I  would  pause  and  listen  and  look.  I 


TO  MINE  BUN  98 

went  on,  bidding  Ramsey  to  remain  with  the  horses.  With 
little  difficulty  I  reached  the  road ;  I  was  about  to  cross  it, 
when  I  heard  in  front  the  sound  of  many  axes.  I  knew  at 
once  what  the  sound  meant ;  the  enemy  were  felling  trees  and 
fortifying  their  flank.  I  returned  to  Ramsey. 

"  Can  you  find  your  way  back  here,  if  you  leave  me  now, 
Ramsey  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  he,  "  unless  it  is  in  the  night." 

"  But  you  may  have  to  do  it  in  the  night." 

"Then  I'll  do  my  best.  If  Kemp  can  get  back  where  he 
was,  I  can  get  here." 

"  Take  my  horse  with  you ;  it  won't  do  to  leave  him  here. 
Take  my  overcoat,  too.  Give  me  the  gun." 

"  You'll  be  very  cold,  sir." 

"  I  think  not.  I'll  take  the  blanket.  At  any  rate  I  don't 
want  the  overcoat.  Ride  to  General  Warren  and  tell  him  that 
the  enemy  are  hard  at  work  felling  timber  near  the  tan-yard. 
Bring  my  horse  back  with  you  to  this  spot,  and  if  our  men 
take  position  here,  tie  my  horse  to  this  tree  in  case  you  are 
compelled  to  go  off  on  other  duty." 

"  All  right,  sir.     But  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"Tell  General  Warren  that  I  hope  to  have  complete  infor- 
mation for  him  some  time  in  the  night.  You  go  ahead ;  never 
mind  about  me.  Go  slow  till  you  get  back  to  the  road  where 
we  first  left  it,  then  go  as  fast  as  you  wish." 

He  was  gone,  and  I  was  alone  again  in  The  Wilderness,  with 
the  Confederate  infantry  not  far  distant,  and  with  Warren's 
flanking  column  somewhere  in  my  rear. 

I  had  sent  six  messengers  to  General  Warren ;  in  sending 
five  I  had  had  doubts  that  any  would  reach  him,  for  it  would 
have  been  no  wonder  if  they  all  had  been  cut  off  by  Confeder- 
ate cavalry  advancing  or  scouting  on  the  road,  but  when  I  sent 
Ramsey  I  believed  that  none  of  the  six  would  fail  to  reach  the 
head  of  our  column,  because  I  now  had  unquestionable  evidence 
that  the  Confederates  were  awaiting  our  attack.  They  were 


94          A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

extending  their  intrenched  lines  to  provide  against  our  move- 
ment ;  they  would  not  advance. 

Lee  had  blocked  the  way  through  The  Wilderness.  Meade's 
purpose  to  march  through  this  dismal  region  and  reach  more 
open  ground  where  he  might  handle  his  army  to  advantage  had 
been  frustrated ;  Warren  would  get  here  undoubtedly,  but  he 
would  find  the  enemy  prepared. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  man  better  fitted  than  I  to  decide  the 
relative  advantages  of  the  Union  and  Confederate  armies  in  the 
Virginia  campaigns.  In  Jackson's  flank  march  against  Hooker, 
ten  miles  below  this  spot,  the  Confederates  had  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  ground,  and  the  benefit  of  generalship  on  the 
opposite  side  which  now  seems  nothing  more  than  fatuity,  for 
it  is  known  that  the  Union  skirmishers  and  scouts  on  Hooker's 
western  flank  detected  Jackson's  movement  and  were  unable 
to  make  their  generals  believe  their  reports.  On  this  ground 
of  Mine  Run,  Lee  was  ready ;  his  lines  extended  in  confronta- 
tion of  the  Union  army  for  many  miles,  and  to  make  assurance 
doubly  sure  he  fortified  his  flanks.  The  generalship  in  the  war 
in  Virginia  was  undoubtedly  on  the  side  of  the  Confederates, 
and  victory  had  been  won  so  often  under  such  generalship 
that  Lee's  men  honestly  believed  their  army  unconquerable. 
Whether  these  preponderances  were  sufficient  to  offset  the 
numerical  superiority  of  the  Union  army,  I  cannot  say.  As 
for  fighting  qualities  inherent  in  the  men  of  the  respective 
armies,  I  think  superiority  can  be  justly  claimed  by  neither, 
yet  the  prestige  of  success  inspired  the  Confederates,  confi- 
dence in  their  leaders  gave  them  assurance,  and  above  all,  the 
deep  belief  that  they  were  fighting  for  independence  nerved 
them  to  every  sacrifice ;  while  to  the  contrary  the  Union 
troops  had  learned  to  question  the  ability  of  those  who  led 
them,  to  doubt  the  loyalty  of  some,  and  to  despise  many.  Thus 
much  I  can  say :  the  Confederates  did  not  expect  the  Yankees 
to  fight  as  well  as  Southerners  did,  and  the  Federals  knew  that 
the  rebels  would  fight  terribly.  The  Confederates,  in  going 


TO  MINE  RUN  95 

into  battle,  expected  to  win;  the  Federals  doubted — yet  the 
doubt  applied  only  to  the  one  fight  before  them  ;  they  expected 
to  succeed  in  the  end.  Be  it  remembered  that  I  am  speaking 
of  my  own  countrymen ;  I  have  been,  and  I  am,  both  a  Federal 
and  a  Confederate.  There  was  never,  perhaps,  a  better  body 
of  troops  on  earth  than  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  —  and 
I  am  proud  of  the  great  deeds  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
that  army  organized  under  McClellan,  and  defeated  under 
McClellan,  and  defeated  under  Pope,  and  under  Burnside,  and 
under  Hooker,  and  time  and  again  —  by  piecemeal  —  under 
Grant.  Had  the  Confederate  army  been  defeated  at  Gaines's 
Mill,  it  might  never  have  recovered  its  morale.  It  was  in  de- 
feat that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  hardened  into  the 
hammer  that  Grant  wielded  so  relentlessly;  through  succes- 
sive defeats  it  preserved  its  integrity,  and  met  again  and  again 
its  old  victorious  enemy.  For  the  fighting  qualities  of  this 
army  to  be  disparaged  because  of  the  blunders  of  its  generals 
is  coarsely  unjust ;  the  men  knew  it,  and  fought  again.  Nei- 
ther is  glorification  over  the  final  success  of  Grant  in  place,  for 
it  was  not  Grant  that  overcame  Lee.  A  brigade  charges  and  is 
repulsed ;  another  comes  to  the  attack  and  leaves  the  ground 
littered  with  dead ;  a  third  advances  and  fails ;  the  fourth, 
fresh  and  strong,  marches  over  the  enemy  now  exhausted  by 
success ;  and  the  fourth  shouts  and  waves  its  plumes  and  says, 
"  We  are  the  men ! "  So  it  was  with  Grant.  The  campaigns 
of  his  predecessors  are  component  and  necessary  parts  of  the 
great  struggle  which  the  Confederates  by  skill  and  courage 
were  able  to  prolong,  and  it  is  injustice  to  every  other  com- 
mander to  attribute  the  success  of  Appomattox  to  Grant  alone 
—  as  unjust  as  it  would  be  to  say  that  because  Colonel  Pritch- 
ard  captured  Mr.  Davis,  therefore  Colonel  Pritchard  over- 
came the  Confederacy. 

Again  I  went  forward  along  the  inside  edge  of  the  curving 
woods  until  I  could  see  the  road.  The  noise  of  the  chopping 
continued;  occasionally  I  could  hear  the  fall  of  a  tree.  The 


96         A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

sounds  came  but  a  few  hundred  yards.  Where  was  the  Con- 
federate skirmish-line  ?  I  could  not  pass  that  road. 

Seeing  that  a  further  advance  was  impracticable  at  this  point, 
I  climbed  a  tree,  a  tall  and  dense  cedar,  and  in  doing  so  did 
something  which  I  cannot  account  for.  It  was  neither  instinct 
nor  reason  that  directed  me;  I  don't  know  what  it  was.  It 
may  have  been  that,  on  former  occasions  having  had  to  take  my 
place  in  a  tree  top  while  sharp-shooting,  the  past  influenced  me ; 
at  any  rate,  when  I  found  myself  securely  sitting  on  a  branch, 
some  twenty  feet  above  the  ground  and  with  thick  boughs 
all  around  me,  I  saw  my  spiked  Enfield  yet  in  my  hand.  I 
have  spoken  before  of  my  skill  in  climbing.  I  had  merely  for- 
gotten to  disencumber  myself  of  the  worthless  piece.  I  won- 
dered then  why  I  had  not  left  the  gun  at  the  foot  of  the  tree, 
and  I  suppose  I  shall  continue  to  wonder  until  somebody  ex- 
plains my  act. 

From  the  tree  I  had  no  good  view ;  it  was  heavily  branched 
in  every  direction.  I  tried  to  part  the  branches  northward  so 
that  I  could  see  better,  but  instantly  ceased  for  fear  of  the 
sharp  eye  of  some  Confederate  vedette,  who,  if  posted  just 
beyond  the  road,  might  see  the  branches  shake.  I  decided  to 
come  down  and  make  my  way  to  the  left  and  try  to  find  some 
better  point  for  observation.  I  had  placed  my  right  foot  on 
the  branch  below  me  when  I  heard  a  noise  in  front,  a  noise 
like  that  made  by  a  man's  feet  in  leaping,  and  looking  again, 
I  saw  the  road  full  of  Confederate  skirmishers  advancing. 
At  this  place  the  road  was  sunken,  and  some  of  the  men  had 
indeed  leaped  into  it. 

My  right  foot  involuntarily  came  back,  and  I  huddled  up  on 
that  branch  into  as  compact  a  mass  as  I  could  force.  In  a 
moment  the  line  of  men  was  lost  to  view ;  a  moment  more,  and 
I  saw  some  of  them ;  they  were  continuing  to  advance  in  line, 
and  now  were  not  more  than  forty  yards  away,  coming  slowly. 

I  was  hoping  that  I  could  see  but  little,  for  if  I  could  see 
them  they  might  see  me,  losing  for  the  instant  the  right  knowl- 


TO  MINE  RUN  97 

edge  that  in  our  relative  positions  my  view  was  better  than 
theirs.  In  the  next  moment  I  saw  five  of  them  at  once,  still 
coming.  These  men  had  their  guns  at  the  ready.  They  were 
bending  over  as  they  advanced.  They  were  alert,  looking  ahead 
into  the  bushes  —  God  be  thanked  —  not  up  at  the  sky.  Evi- 
dently they  thought  that  at  any  instant  they  were  likely  to 
strike  the  Union  skirmishers ;  they  were  ready,  at  the  crack 
of  the  first  rifle  to  jump  behind  trees  and  go  to  pegging  away. 
I  blessed  my  stars  that  I  had  not  left  the  Enfield  on  the  ground 
for  them  to  see. 

The  next  ten  seconds  passed  at  length,  and  I  saw  two  men 
very  near  me.  One  was  George  Mackay  ;  I  could  have  sworn 
it.  One  was  Wallace  Williams ;  I  could  have  sworn  it. 
Mackay  was  just  west  of  the  tree;  Williams  just  east  of  it  — 
the  two,  five  paces  apart.  The  line  passed  on. 

Who  were  these  men  ?  They  were  McGowan's  skirmishers. 
They  were  the  orderly-sergeant  and  the  tallest  file-leader  in 
Company  H. 


IN   THE   MINE   BUN   LINES 

"  Drummer,  strike  up,  and  let  us  march  away." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

GEORGE  MACKAY,  the  orderly-sergeant  of  old  Company  H, 
was  a  man  of  great  courage  and  a  thorough  soldier.  It  was 
impossible  for  me  not  to  recognize  him,  because  he  was  only 
about  five  feet  two  inches  in  height.  Williams  was  perhaps 
the  tallest  man  in  the  company,  and  would  be  on  the  right 
next  to  Mackay.  I  had  last  seen  these  men  on  the  morning  of 
the  12th  of  October,  when  I  left  Company  H  forever.  This 
day,  on  which  I  now  saw  them  again,  was  the  29th  of  Novem- 
ber, only  seven  weeks  later.  Yes,  Mackay  had  passed  under 
the  tree  on  one  side,  and  Williams  had  passed  under  the  tree 
on  the  other  side  ;  with  a  long  fishing-pole  I  might  almost  have 
touched  either.  My  eyes  turned  east,  toward  the  left  of  the 
advancing  line ;  I  wanted  to  see  others  of  my  old  comrades, 
but  the  bushes  were  so  thick  that  I  saw  only  two  more, 
Owens  and  Stokes. 

The  line  had  gone  on ;  I  now  could  see  no  man.  My  first 
sensation  after  the  thrill  of  nervous  curiosity  subsided  concern- 
ing my  old  friends  was  fear  —  horrible  fear.  I  was  in  the 
thick  tree;  the  skirmishers  were  between  me  and  Warren's 
corps ;  I  was  between  them  and  their  line  of  battle.  Doubt- 
less the  Confederate  main  line  had  very  recently  taken  its 
present  position ;  it  was  now  intrenching ;  on  arriving  it 
had  thrown  out  skirmishers,  who  were  slowly  advancing  in 
order  to  examine  the  ground ;  perhaps  they  would  occupy  a 


IN  THE  MINE  RUN  LINES  99 

position  in  the  woods  here  on  the  south  of  the  road.  I  knew 
that  Company  H  and  the  other  companies  of  the  skirmish-Hue 
might  at  this  hour  advance  very  far  before  they  came  in  con- 
tact with  our  men.  If  they  should  advance  very  far  they 
would  be  in  danger  of  being  cut  off,  however,  for  an  enterpris- 
ing enemy  might  get  between  them  and  their  line  of  battle. 
So  I  judged  that  they  would  not  advance  very  far;  they  would 
soon  halt,  and  then  they  might  construct  rifle-pits  on  the  hill 
overlooking  the  valley  behind  me,  —  or  they  might  content 
themselves  with  the  protection  of  the  trees,  as  they  were  cer- 
tain to  be  compelled  to  retire  from  such  an  advanced  position, 
and  in  that  case  they  ought  to  have  a  line  of  rifle-pits  to  which 
they  could  retire,  and  that  line  of  pits  ought  to  be  made  over 
yonder  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  road ;  there  they  would 
be  concealed  by  the  forest,  and  the  Federal  skirmishers  would 
have  a  nasty  time  in  crossing  that  road  under  the  long  Enfields 
of  old  Company  H. 

What  if  this  skirmish-line  should  withdraw  now  ?  In  retir- 
ing^ the  men  would  be  much  more  likely  to  see  me,  for  their 
attention  would  be  fixed  no  longer ;  they  would  be  simply 
marching  back  over  the  ground,  and  be  thinking  of  nothing 
and  of  everything,  and  I  should  be  in  great  peril.  I  must  do 
something.  If  my  blue  clothes  should  be  seen  in  this  tree  by 
any  man  in  Company  H,  my  fate  was  sealed.  I  had  known 
this  from  the  very  first ;  indeed,  it  was  a  familiar  thought,  and 
not  less  fearful  because  it  was  familiar ;  from  the  moment 
when  General  Meade  detached  me,  I  had  known  this  danger 
and  feared  it.  To  modify  this  danger  I  had  spiked  the  old 
Enfield.  If  captured  I  would  show  my  captors  the  condition 
of  the  rifle,  which  would  prove  that  I  had  no  intention  of  firing 
on  my  former  friends.  Although  this  would  give  me  no  justi- 
fication for  serving  the  enemies  of  my  former  friends,  yet  it 
might  add  corroboration  to  my  true  statement  which  in  an 
extremity  I  would  make,  and  to  fair-minded  soldiers  would  be 
a  palliation  at  least.  My  statement  would  not  be  believed,  — 


100        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  knew  that  very  well,  —  but  the  worthless  gun  would  help  to 
give  strength  to  the  honesty  of  my  delusion,  as  it  would  be 
thought. 

I  must  act,  and  act  quickly,  yet  I  must  act  discreetly.  My 
first  thought  was  to  slip  down  from  the  tree  and  try  to  make 
my  way  around  the  right  flank  of  the  skirmish-line.  But  this 
undertaking  would  keep  me  just  in  rear  of  the  First  for  a  long 
distance ;  Company  H  was  the  left  of  the  regiment.  Of  course 
I  could  not  know  that  the  skirmish-line  consisted  of  the  entire 
First,  but  I  thought  it  quite  likely. 

My  next  thought  was  the  possibility  of  slipping  out  by  the 
left  flank ;  that  work  seemed  too  great ;  the  left  flank  of  this 
line  might  be  the  left  flank  of  Lee's  army,  which  rested  many 
miles  away. 

Suddenly  I  began  to  take  off  my  clothes  —  there  in  the  tree. 
I  must  reverse  my  uniform,  and  must  be  a  changed  man  before 
another  Confederate  should  come  my  way.  I  worked  fast  and 
the  job  was  soon  over.  I  did  not  take  time  to  change  the 
buttons ;  I  would  do  that  afterward.  What  I  wanted  was  to 
get  down  quickly,  and  be  a  Confederate  when  I  reached  the 
ground.  I  did  not  know  how  soon  the  line,  or  any  man  of  it, 
might  return.  I  did  not  know  how  soon  some  laggard  from 
the  rear  might  come  up,  hunting  for  his  place  in  the  line. 

The  change  was  complete  except  the  buttons  ;  my  waist-belt 
was  on;  my  canteen  and  haversack  were  on,  my  twisted 
blanket  was  over  my  shoulders.  I  arranged  the  blanket  so 
that  it  would  hide  the  buttonless  front  of  my  coat,  and  came 
quickly  down  the  tree,  descending  on  the  north  side  of  it.  Now 
what  should  I  do  ?  I  had  effected  a  present  purpose  which 
had  been  made  regardless  of  any  plan  to  follow.  Now  what 
should  I  do  ? 

First  I  wanted  to  get  farther  from  Company  H,  and  wanted 
to  change  my  buttons.  I  moved  off  from  the  tree  toward  the 
road,  which  was  only  some  thirty  yards  distant.  As  I  went  I 
began  to  unring  the  buttons  from  the  inside  of  the  coat.  The 


IN  THE   MINE   RUN   LINES  101 

work  was  so  difficult  that  I  halted  until  I  had  finished,  the  top 
button  especially  giving  me  great  trouble.  When  at  last  I  had 
made  the  change  I  felt  my  greatest  fear  depart,  for  I  knew  that 
it  was  possible  to  go  through  the  Confederate  main  lines  with- 
out a  question  being  asked.  I  might  perhaps  have  been  able 
to  go  straight  through  the  skirmish-line  by  merely  saying, 
"  Man  going  to  the  front,"  and  passing  boldly  on,  for  men 
frequently  went  to  the  front  of  the  skirmish-lines  for  purposes 
of  observation.  But  my  returning  courage  suggested  that  I 
ought  to  report  to  General  Warren  the  condition  of  the  Con- 
federate intrenchments  and  forces  here,  and  hope  rose  in  me 
now  when  I  thought  that  it  was  in  my  power  to  learn  accu- 
rately by  myself  what  a  brigade  could  not  learn  even  with 
great  sacrifice.  It  was  about  two  o'clock ;  by  getting  behind 
the  main  lines  I  could  learn  all  I  wanted  to  know,  and  then,  in 
the  night,  I  could  go  around  the  right  flank  and  find  General 
Warren  before  another  sunrise.  I  walked  across  the  road 
and  into  the  woods  beyond. 

Before  me  was  a  wooded  hollow  of  picturesque  form,  fan- 
like,  extending  downward  and  upward  —  down  to  a  depth  of 
sixty  feet  perhaps,  and  then  up  on  the  other  side  to  an  equally 
great  elevation,  which  was  some  three  hundred  yards  from  me, 
as  I  could  easily  see,  for  the  depression  was  sudden  —  the 
tops  of  the  trees  being  beneath  me.  I  could  hear  the  ringing 
of  axes  on  the  other  side  of  the  hollow. 

For  perhaps  thirty  yards  I  hurried  on,  fearing  that  the  skir- 
mish-line would  speedily  return  and  take  position  here  in  rear 
of  the  road  ;  here  was  an  ideal  position  for  skirmishers.  It 
would  take  a  line  of  battle  to  cross  this  road,  and  even  a  line 
of  battle  must  suffer  under  the  Confederate  skirmishers  who 
would  deliver  their  volleys  at  close  range  and  be  down  the  hill 
and  out  of  sight  before  the  Federals  could  reach  the  timber, 
and  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  hollow,  which  I  conjectured 
was  in  full  view  from  the  Confederate  intrenchments,  the  skir- 
mishers could  again  give  pause  to  a  battle  line  disorganized  on 


102        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

this  steep  and  wooded  slope.  The  more  I  thought  of  it,  the 
less  did  it  seem  necessary  that  the  Confederate  line  should 
have  any  intrenchments  at  all. 

Now  I  heard  firing  far  behind  me,  and  knew  that  Warren's 
advance  was  reaching  the  ground.  I  looked  back,  and  soon 
saw  the  Confederate  skirmishers  retiring.  I  saw  Mackay  again, 
and  Williams,  and  Stokes,  but  Owens  was  not  there.  Had 
Owens  fallen,  out  there  in  the  woods  ?  There  had  been  but 
a  few  shots  and  they  were  heard  from  a  long  distance.  The 
men  were  not  running,  —  they  were  only  withdrawing  with 
special  purpose ;  Owens,  no  doubt,  had  been  left  as  a  vedette 
on  the  other  side  of  the  road ;  the  permanent  position  of  the 
line  would  be  here  where  I  was  standing.  Would  they  make 
pits  ?  Yes ;  no  doubt  they  must  have  pits ;  it  would  be 
impossible  for  these  men,  thinly  clad,  and  poorly  fed,  to  live 
in  this  cold  weather  without  fires  at  night;  they  must  have 
pits,  else  the  bullets  of  the  Federal  marksmen  would  find 
targets  around  the  fires. 

I  went  down  the  hill  and  stopped  in  the  hollow ;  as  I  had 
expected,  the  skirmishers  behind  me  halted.  I  did  not  wait 
to  see  what  they  were  going  to  do;  I  stopped  only  long 
enough  to  be  convinced  that  they  had  halted;  then  I  went 
across  the  hollow  and  began  to  climb  the  next  hill.  The  hill 
was  rugged  and  steep ;  a  line  here  could  be  defended  by  a  few 
men.  The  hill  could  be  reached  by  a  line  of  battle,  but  a  line 
already  in  disorder;  the  hill  might  be  climbed  by  a  line  in 
some  shape,  but  not  under  fire.  I  expected  to  find  a  very 
thinly  guarded  intrenchment ;  Lee  would  man  his  weak  places 
well,  but  at  such  a  point  as  this  few  men  would  be  needed. 
Trees  were  lying  this  way  and  that,  already  an  obstruction 
and  yet  to  be  organized  into  an  entanglement.  I  saw  men 
before  me,  some  of  them  at  work,  others  at  the  fires  cooking. 
There  was  a  line  of  logs,  not  yet  finished  at  all  points,  with 
earth  thrown  into  the  intervals ;  where  the  work  had  reached 
the  height  of  about  four  feet  it  was  supplemented  with  a  good 


IN  THE   MINE  RUN  LINES  103 

head-log,  raised  by  props  some  two  or  three  inches  above,  so 
that  a  space  was  left  for  the  aim  of  the  soldiers  behind,  whose 
heads  were  thus  protected.  No  man  seemed  to  notice  me. 

I  did  not  know  the  regiment  into  whose  works  I  had  come, 
but  I  knew  it  was  McGowan's ;  I  could  see  palmetto  buttons. 
I  went  to  the  left  a  little,  and  walked  up  to  one  of  the  fires. 

"  Where  is  the  First  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  On  the  skirmish-line.     Do  you  belong  to  it  ?  " 

"No;  what  is  this?" 

"  Fourteenth." 

I  kept  going  east ;  I  wanted  to  learn  what  force  was  occupy- 
ing this  whole  southern  front  and  where  the  salient  was.  The 
boughs  of  the  trees  had  been  left  to  lie  in  front  of  the  works ; 
the  logs  had  been  used  for  building  them.  Darkness  was 
gathering  and  the  troops  were  now  at  ease,  clustered  around 
small  fires  of  green  wood,  which  later,  when  dry,  would  become 
great  fires,  for  wood  was  plentiful.  The  black  smoke  drifted 
to  the  right ;  the  wind  came  from  the  east.  I  inferred  that 
much  of  the  work  on  the  line  had  been  done  before  these  men 
reached  it. 

The  line  was  not  straight ;  I  could  see  that  it  had  been  laid 
out  according  to  some  system;  it  ran  irregularly  along  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  showing  angles.  At  some  places  the  newly 
cut  boughs  in  front  had  been  piled  in  a  long  row  parallel  with 
the  breastwork;  no  doubt  the  whole  line  would  be  treated 
thus.  The  troops  seemed  to  be  suffering  greatly  from  the 
cold;  otherwise,  they  were  as  ever.  I  could  not  doubt  that 
an  attack  on  these  lines  would  result  in  a  bloody  repulse ;  as 
for  artillery,  it  could  not  be  used  here.  At  this  part  of  the 
line  the  Confederates  had  the  strongest  position  I  had  ever 
seen.  Lee  might  be  flanked  out ;  he  could  not  be  driven  out 
with  ten  times  his  numbers.  This  became  so  clear  to  me  that  I 
felt  impelled  to  get  back  at  once  to  General  Warren.  He  was 
moving  against  this  position;  if  I  should  fail  to  reach  him 
to-morrow  morning  and  he  should  attack,  in  the  belief  that  he 


104        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

could  carry  this  line,  the  loss  would  be  terrible.  I  knew  he 
would  not  attack  now ;  he  would  wait  until  morning  and  attack 
then,  unless  his  mind  should  change ;  I  must  change  it ;  ... 
could  this  be  the  great  work  which  the  Doctor  .  .  .  ?  no ;  he 
had  not  meant  military  work. 

I  had  passed  Scales's  brigade  and  had  reached  Lane's,  which 
I  had  known  without  asking,  for  the  stacked  arms  showed  their 
bayonets.  I  stopped  at  a  fire  where  many  men  were  huddled. 

"  Do  you  know  what  troops  are  on  our  left  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Thomas's." 

I  knew  now  that  at  least  all  of  Wilcox's  brigades  were  here ; 
what  was  at  the  left  of  Wilcox  I  would  not  ask ;  very  likely 
these  men  would  not  know.  It  might  be  that  McGowan's 
brigade  was  on  the  extreme  right  of  Lee's  infantry ;  if  that 
were  the  case  I  should  not  have  far  to  go  to  get  back  to  our 
lines,  and  even  if  another  division  —  say  Heth's  —  was  at  the 
right  of  Wilcox's,  then  I  should  have  no  great  distance  to 
walk,  for  I  judged  that  a  division  was  not  more  than  a  mile 
long  when  formed  as  these  men  were.  Even  if  all  of  Hill's 
corps  was  on  this  flank  I  should  reach  the  end  of  the  line  in 
three  or  four  miles ;  of  course  I  must  then  look  out  for  cavalry. 

When  I  left  this  fire  I  sauntered  back  toward  the  right, 
passed  Lane's  brigade  again,  and  reached  McGowan's,  whose 
arms,  stacked  at  my  left,  showed  few  bayonets,  the  stacks 
being  made  by  using  the  heads  of  the  rammers.  I  passed  the 
Fourteenth  and  reached  the  Twelfth. 

"  How  are  you,  Sergeant  ?  "  called  a  voice. 

There  are  many  sergeants ;  I  kept  on. 

"  Sergeant  Jones ! " 

I  stopped  —  it  was  Cyrus  Ruff ;  I  had  been  with  him  in  the 
sharp-shooters,  where  I  had  served  as  a  sergeant. 

"  Hello,  Ruff !    It's  good  for  sore  eyes  to  see  you  again." 

He  and  his  mates  had  a  pretty  good  fire,  and  I  sat  down  by 
it,  and  began  cutting  up  some  tobacco  and  filling  my  pipe. 

"  Been  at  the  front  ?  "  asked  Ruff. 


IN  THE  MINE  RUN   LINES  105 

u  Come  from  there  little  while  ago." 

"  First  is  on  skirmish-line  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Anything  goin'  on  out  there  ? " 

"Not  yet.     Where's  General  McGowan,  —  do  you  know  ?  " 

"I  saw  him  ten  minutes  ago;  he  was  going  to  the  right. 
Want  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Not  specially.  I  hadn't  seen  him,  and  didn't  know  but  he 
might  be  away." 

"No;  he's  here  all  right  enough.  Goin'  to  be  in  the  bat- 
talion again  ?  " 

"  The  sharp-shooters,  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Can't  tell  yet  that  they  will  let  me.  Do  you  know  who 
will  command  it  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  Captain  Dunlop  of  this  regiment  —  the  Twelfth." 

"  Good  man  ?  " 

"  Splendid ;  he'll  save  his  men.  I  didn't  want  to  go  back 
into  the  battalion  until  I  learned  that  Dunlop  was  to  have  it ; 
now  I  want  to  be  one  of  'em." 

"  Where  is  the  brigade  commissary  ?  " 

"  In  rear  of  the  right  of  the  brigade,  not  more  than  three 
hundred  yards  or  so." 

"  Well,  I  got  to  get  on.     Good-by,  Ruff." 

At  last  I  reached  the  right  of  McGowan's  brigade  —  yet  the 
breastworks  continued ;  but  I  could  now  see  that  the  line  de- 
flected sharply  to  the  northwest,  and  again  after  going  a  hun- 
dred yards  farther,  there  was  another  angle  in  the  line,  which 
now  ran  almost  due  north.  This  part  of  the  line  was  occupied 
by  Anderson's  division. 

When  I  saw  at  length  the  end  of  the  works,  I  turned  about ; 
it  would  not  be  prudent  to  go  past  them,  for  my  intentions 
might  be  suspected ;  although  I  knew  that  I  could  easily  rush 
through  the  bushes  and  be  lost  to  sight  in  a  moment,  yet  an 
alarm  given  here  might  warn  the  skirmishers  in  front  and  the 


106        A   FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

cavalry  to  the  right,  if  any  were  there,  and  thus  my  difficulty 
be  rendered  great ;  so,  as  I  say,  I  turned  about  and  went  a 
hundred  yards  toward  the  salient.  My  greatest  anxiety  now 
was  in  regard  to  my  ability  to  preserve  directions  when  I 
should  be  in  darkness.  It  would  be  easy  to  lose  my  way; 
there  were  no  stars,  and  no  vistas  through  the  forest  except  this 
one  made  by  the  Confederate  line  of  works ;  I  must  try  to 
take  and  keep  my  bearings,  lest  I  go  into  the  Confederate 
pickets  instead  of  our  own. 

Again  I  turned  northwest;  this  course  I  would  pursue  for 
two  hundred  yards,  then  turn  southwest  and  go  three  hundred 
yards,  and  should  then  be  clear,  I  felt  confident,  of  the  Con- 
federate main  lines ;  afterward  I  counted  on  going  due  south 
until  I  should  find  something  —  men,  or  some  elevation  from 
which  I  could  determine  my  course.  Beyond  the  difficulty 
naturally  incident  to  the  forest  at  night  I  had  no  trouble.  Of 
course  I  did  not  know  that  I  was  perfectly  pursuing  my  plan, 
though  in  the  rough  I  believed  I  was  succeeding.  When  I  had 
gone  two  hundred  yards,  I  turned  to  my  left  at  an  angle  —  as 
near  as  I  could  make  it  —  of  forty-five  degrees  and  went  on 
through  the  forest  for  half  an  hour,  going  very  slowly  on 
account  of  the  darkness.  After  floundering  through  a  narrow 
swamp,  I  stood  again  on  firm  ground.  Now,  thought  I,  if  I  go 
south  and  do  not  strike  the  enemy's  breastworks,  I  shall  find 
the  Union  skirmishers,  or  else  go  west  of  them  and  get  lost 
unless  I  find  some  of  our  cavalry.  So  I  turned  southward  as 
nearly  as  I  could  know  and  went  on  for  about  three  hundred 
yards,  when  I  saw  fires  at  my  left  oblique  through  the  woods, 
and,  judging  that  I  was  too  near  the  enemy,  bent  off  toward  the 
west  until  I  could  no  longer  see  the  fires ;  then  I  resumed  my 
southerly  course.  My  progress  was  exceedingly  slow ;  at  every 
change  in  the  ground  I  paused  and  listened.  Once  I  heard 
laughter  at  my  left,  coming  seemingly  from  more  than  one 
man.  There  ought  to  be  Confederate  vedettes  and  scouts  in 
the  woods  here  on  the  flank,  and  cavalry  farther  away,  if  there 


IN  THE   MINE   RUN   LINES  107 

was  any  road  on  which  they  could  move.  My  plan  was  to 
keep  near  the  Confederate  line ;  if  I  should  get  too  far  from  it 
I  should  almost  surely  be  lost;  yet  I  must  not  get  too  near  for 
fear  of  detection.  There  was  as  yet  no  need  for  haste;  the 
night  was  growing,  but  General  Warren  was  not  many  miles 
away ;  to  make  these  few  miles  with  certainty  was  the  task  I 
gave  myself;  better  be  six  hours  in  doing  it  than  to  run  any 
unnecessary  risk.  So  I  was  extremely  careful ;  each  step 
forward  was  made  slowly,  my  foot  coming  down  gradually 
upon  the  leaves  and  being  withdrawn  before  my  weight  was 
upon  it  whenever  I  felt  under  it  the  impression  of  a  twig  that 
might  snap.  The  bushes  before  me  were  parted  with  care ;  I 
am  sure  that  in  one  place  I  took  ten  minutes  to  go  ten  feet. 

After  a  long  time  I  felt  my  footing  slope  downward  as  I 
went,  and  hoped  that  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  Federal  ground 
would  be  reached  ;  yet  caution  did  not  leave  me.  Stones  were 
on  the  slope;  an  unguarded  step  might  send  one  of  them 
rattling  down  the  hill.  Perhaps  I  had  gone  fifty  yards  down 
hill,  when  I  distinctly  heard  a  low  whistle  coming  directly 
from  my  front. 

To  get  behind  a  tree  I  had  only  to  move  my  left  foot,  as  my 
right  side  was  already  behind  it.  The  whistle  was  repeated  — 
one  low  brief  note.  I  was  on  the  boundary  between  the  two 
skirmish-lines;  was  this  whistler  a  Confederate?  I  did  not 
know. 

I  must  be  careful ;  I  must  fully  know  who  this  man  was, 
before  I  ventured  forward. 

It  is  astonishing  to  think  how  many  notions  may  go  through 
the  mind  in  a  second.  The  man  before  me  was  signalling ;  I 
had  no  doubt  as  to  that.  He  had  a  companion  somewhere, 
whom  he  thought  now  returning,  for  it  was  almost  certain  that 
he  had  heard  me.  Yet  this  might  be  mere  guesswork.  The 
man  might  be  a  deserter  from  one  army  to  the  other — from 
which  to  which  ?  Where  was  I  ?  Was  I  going  toward  the 
Confederates  ?  This  hill  which  I  was  descending,  and  which 


108       A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  had  supposed  a  continuation  of  the  range  on  which  Wilcox's 
division  had  formed  —  was  it  really  that  ?  Perhaps  it  had  no 
connection  with  that  range  —  how  could  I  know  whither  I  had 
wandered  in  the  darkness  ?  The  man  before  me  might  be  a 
vedette  far  off  on  the  flank.  He  might  be  one  of  our  cavalry 
or  one  of  Stuart's  cavalry.  He  had  signalled  twice,  and  was 
now  waiting ;  perhaps  he  was  beginning  to  suspect.  If  a  com- 
rade had  been  expected  to  return,  the  whistler  now  doubted 
that  what  he  had  heard  was  his  comrade  returning  —  he  cer- 
tainly could  not  have  seen  me !  Yet  I  was  above  him,  and  it 
was  just  possible  that  from  his  position  he  had  seen  an  object 
intervene  between  him  and  the  dim  light  above  the  trees.  The 
sound  I  had  heard  was  not  the  whistler's  first  call,  perhaps ; 
he  was  expecting  the  approach  of  his  comrade,  who  in  the 
darkness  might  easily  come  from  the  front,  even  though  his 
position  were  on  the  flank. 

Before  and  since  that  time  I  have  had  many  occasions  to 
observe  the  merit  of  the  old  adage,  "  In  doubt  abstain."  To 
do  any  one  thing,  when  any  might  bring  ruin,  is  folly ;  I  did 
nothing.  If  I  should  go  forward,  it  would  be  at  the  risk  of 
capture  ;  if  I  should  go  to  the  left  I  should  risk  capture ;  if  I 
should  go  to  the  right  I  should  get  lost ;  if  I  should  retreat  I 
should  get  lost.  I  waited  and  the  man  waited.  I  was  think- 
ing that  we  were  about  ten  feet  apart ;  I  heard  again  a  low 
whistle  —  a  brief  monotone.  This  sound  clearly  came  from 
my  left,  and  from  a  greater  distance.  Possibly  ten  seconds 
had  passed  between  the  last  two  notes. 

The  man  in  front  of  me  responded.  He  uttered  the  same 
note,  but  prolonged  it.  My  attention  now  was  divided,  my 
interest  doubled.  These  vedettes  or  scouts,  or  whatever  they 
were,  would  get  together.  If  the  man  in  front  of  me  should 
remain,  and  the  one  on  my  left  approach,  I  might  hear  what 
should  be  said ;  if  they  should  move  toward  each  other  their 
meeting  point  might  be  too  far  from  me  to  hear  them  speak. 

The  one  on  the  left  approached.     I  could  not  see  him,  nor 


IN   THE   MINE   RUN   LINES  109 

could  I  hear  him,  yet  I  knew  that  he  was  approaching.  There 
was  no  mystery  in  this  knowledge  ;  it  came  from  hearing  the 
man  in  front  make  very  low  and  repeated  notes  evidently 
intended  to  guide  his  companion.  In  a  short  time  these  notes 
ceased,  and  I  knew  that  the  two  men  were  together  before 
me. 

So  far  as  I  could  yet  positively  know,  the  chances  were 
even  as  to  the  colour  of  their  uniforms.  No  word  had  reached 
my  ear  to  betray  by  its  intonation  what  I  wanted  to  know.  A 
step  forward,  and  I  should  be  a  prisoner  or  should  be  within 
easy  reach  of  General  Warren.  I  stepped  backward. 

Slowly  my  left  foot  had  been  raised  and  placed  some  ten 
inches  back ;  my  right  foot  was  in  the  air ;  my  hand  had  left 
the  tree ;  in  an  instant  more  my  feet  would  have  been  together, 
when  something  came  to  me  that  caused  me,  in  turn,  to  whistle 
the  same  note  the  men  had  used  as  a  signal. 

Yet  I  had  heard  nothing,  and  had  seen  nothing.  What  had 
come  to  me  was  the  odour  of  alcohol. 

I  had  been  in  the  Confederate  army  for  more  than  a  year. 
In  all  that  time  I  had  known  but  few  rations  of  whiskey  issued 
—  and  never  at  the  time  of  an  expected  battle.  By  far  the 
greatest  quantity  of  whiskey  drunk  by  the  Southern  troops 
was  captured  from  the  Federals.  But  the  Confederate  army 
had  certainly  not  had  any  such  good  luck  recently.  Not  since 
the  invasion  of  Pennsylvania,  four  months  previously,  had 
they  captured  anything.  On  the  other  hand,  whiskey  was 
frequently  issued  to  the  Union  troops,  and  sometimes  just 
before  a  battle;  besides,  the  Union  soldiers  could  purchase 
it ;  their  money  was  valuable ;  the  Confederate  soldiers  were 
destitute.  Of  course  this  reasoning  was  not  conclusive,  but  it 
was  so  strong  that  I  thought  there  were  ninety-nine  chances 
in  a  hundred  that  the  men  before  me  were  Federals,  and  I 
whistled,  not  with  the  purpose  of  risking  everything  immedi- 
ately and  without  more  precaution,  but  as  a  preliminary  to 
further  action. 


110        A   FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

There  was  another  cause  for  my  belief  that  the  men  were 
Federals.  The  wind  was  from  the  east.  The  scent  of  a  little 
whiskey  in  the  open  air  could  hardly  be  detected  except  from 
the  direction  whence  the  wind  was  coming.  These  men  were 
eastward  from  me,  and  east  or  southeast  was  the  direction  to 
the  left  flank  of  Meade's  army.  It  was  true  that  if  I  was 
behind  a  Confederate,  he  also  might  be  east,  but  I  had  strong 
reason  for  believing  that  the  men  fronted  me,  whereas,  if  they 
were  Confederates,  I  was  in  their  rear. 

What  was  it  that  made  me  believe  the  men  fronted  me? 
It  was  the  whistling.  My  advance  had  been  too  prudent  to 
be  heard.  The  first  man  had  whistled  when  he  knew  I  was 
near,  believing  that  I  was  his  comrade. 

How  did  he  know  I  was  near  ?  Only  by  happening  to  see 
a  black  object  obstruct  his  vision.  If  that  were  true  he  was 
fronting  me ;  he  was  down  the  hill  and  looking  up  the  hill. 

These  reasons  appeared  to  me  so  convincing  that  I  was 
ready  for  a  parley. 

There  was  one  fact,  however,  sufficiently  important  to  make 
me  heedful.  I  fancied  that  the  smell  of  whiskey  had  come 
from  the  act  of  these  men  in  drinking.  Would  they  have 
paused  to  drink  if  the  first  man  had  seen  me  ?  I  thought 
not. 

At  any  rate,  the  whiskey  ought  to  be  Federal  whiskey.  The 
Confederate  who  had  whiskey  in  his  canteen  at  this  time,  after 
having  for  two  days  faced  the  enemy  in  such  cold  weather, 
was  a  rare  bird,  indeed.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  make  the 
men  talk;  I  should  know  them  by  their  voices.  I  was  not 
afraid  that  they  would  rush  forward;  they  would  fear  they 
should  be  rushing  into  a  trap.  I  was  not  afraid  that  they 
would  fire;  everything  about  them  indicated  a  desire  for 
secrecy. 

There  was  no  response  to  my  whistle.  There  was  no  sound 
whatever.  Perhaps,  after  all,  they  were  Confederates.  Why 
could  I  not  in  that  case  claim  to  be  one  also?  When  they 


IN   THE   MINE   RUN   LINES  111 

should  take  me  to  a  light,  they  would  see  one  of  their  own 
men  before  them.  But  I  must  not  be  delayed ;  all  this  would 
require  much  time,  and  I  might  afterward  be  watched. 

In  a  tone  that  I  intended  should  reach  them  and  go  no 
farther,  I  said,  "  You  men  get  back  into  the  line." 

I  heard  the  men  whispering. 

Then  one  replied,  "We  are  in  our  places,  now,  sir,"  and  I 
knew  the  man  was  a  Yankee,  and  walked  forward.  They 
could  not  see  the  colour  of  my  uniform,  but  one  of  them  saw 
the  gun,  and  knew  at  once  that  I  was  not  an  officer.  He  said 
in  a  low  tone,  but  sternly :  — 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  there  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  in  the  enemy's  lines,"  said  I.  "  What  regi- 
ment is  on  picket  here  ?  " 

"  Sixty-ninth." 

"  Sixty-ninth  New  York  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Say,  I'm  not  going  to  answer  any  more  of  your 
questions.  You  come  along  with  me." 

"  With  great  pleasure.     Take  me  at  once  to  your  officers." 

The  man  ordered  me  to  get  before  him.     I  did  so. 

"  Throw  down  that  gun,"  said  he. 

"Here,"  said  I,  "I'll  lean  it  against  this  tree.  Bring  it 
along,  or  I'll  have  you  sent  back  for  it." 

He  took  up  the  gun,  and  I  suppose  he  saw  that  it  was  an 
Enfield. 

"  I'll  be  damned  if  I  don't  believe  you  are  a  rebel,"  he  said. 

"  Very  well,"  said  I ;  "  you'll  find  out  shortly." 

We  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill.     We  heard  a  challenge. 

"  It's  me  —  Peters  —  with  a  prisoner,"  said  my  man. 

There  were  no  picket  fires,  and  I  learned  that  the  Confeder- 
ates had  none ;  how  the  men  stood  the  duty  that  night  is  a 
wonder.  It  was  current  next  day  that  men  had  frozen  at  their 
posts. 

We  reached  the  picket-line,  and  a  sergeant  was  called. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 


112        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Take  me  to  the  officer  in  command  here,"  said  I. 

"  Pass  word  down  the  line  to  Lieutenant  O'Neil  he's  wanted," 
said  the  sergeant. 

The  lieutenant  came ;  the  sergeant  told  him  I  had  been  found 
in  front,  and  that  I  had  acted  suspiciously;  the  man  Peters 
added  that  I  was  trying  to  get  into  their  lines. 

I  asked  the  lieutenant  to  let  me  speak  to  him  privately  for  a 
moment,  and  he  stepped  a  little  to  the  rear  of  his  line.  Then  I 
told  him  that  I  was  sent  to  the  front  by  order  of  General  Warren, 
whom  I  had  served  as  guide  in  the  march  to  this  point. 

"  If  that  is  true,"  said  he,  "  you  will  be  set  right  at  once." 

"  Have  you  a  match,  Lieutenant  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Light  it,  if  you  please." 

He  led  the  way  again  until  we  were  behind  a  large  tree. 
Then  he  struck  a  match,  and  I  showed  him  the  blue  coat. 

He  seemed  surprised,  but  was  not  willing  to  let  me  go  on 
except  under  guard. 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  I,  "  of  course  I  don't  expect  you  to  let 
me  go ;  all  I  ask  is  to  be  sent  to  General  Warren.  I  know  that 
he  is  anxious  to  hear  my  report ;  it  is  important." 

He  saw  that  what  I  asked  was  reasonable,  but  said,  "  I  can't 
do  that ;  all  I  can  do  is  to  send  you  back  to  the  brigade.  What 
are  the  rebels  doing  ?  What  is  their  force  ?  Are  they  expect- 
ing an  attack  ?  What  corps  is  in  our  front  ?"  — and  would  have 
kept  on,  I  suppose,  but  I  interrupted  him  by  saying  that  I  was 
sorry  that  my  report  must  be  made  to  General  Warren. 

He  chose  two  men,  and  sent  me  back  to  the  brigade  — 
Kelly's  brigade.  The  commander  asked  me  many  questions 
before  he  would  consent  to  let  me  go  on,  but  I  satisfied  him  at 
length,  and  he  furnished  me  a  guide  to  corps  headquarters,  which 
I  succeeded  in  reaching  just  before  sunrise.  General  Warren 
was  asleep,  but  had  left  orders  to  be  waked  in  case  I  should 
return. 

"  Well,  Berwick ;  you  are  a  Confederate  ?  " 


IN   THE  MINE   RUN   LINES  113 

UI  was  for  a  while,  General." 

*  You've  done  good  work.  We'll  smash  Lee's  flank  at  eight 
o'clock." 

I  said  nothing  in  reply.  I  was  standing  at  the  fire,  leaning 
on  my  rifle.  Officers  were  near ;  I  did  not  wish  to  say  any- 
thing before  them. 

"  You  have  a  private  report  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General."     The  officers  moved  to  another  fire. 

"  What  is  it,  Berwick  ?     You  look  serious." 

"  General,  the  position  of  the  enemy  is  impregnable." 

His  countenance  fell.  I  never  saw  a  man  more  disappointed 
in  appearance,  yet  he  had  nerve  enough  to  make  no  exclamation. 

"  I  have  been  in  their  lines,  General.  They  have  two  good 
ranks  behind  log  works  with  head-pieces.  The  ground  in  front 
is  steep  and  it  is  obstructed  with  felled  timber ;  the  line  cannot 
be  carried." 

"  What  troops  are  they  ?  " 

"  Hill's.  I  went  along  the  line  from  the  salient  to  the  end 
of  it ;  it  curves  back  to  a  swamp  which  I  had  difficulty  in  get- 
ting through.  They  had  orders  to  begin  work  again  at  daylight, 
to  further  strengthen  their  position." 

"  Could  you  tell  the  spirit  of  the  troops  ?  " 

"  They  seemed  to  care  nothing  for  anything  except  the  cold 
weather.  They  are  wishing  for  us  to  attack." 

"  Berwick,  say  no  more.     Don't  speak  of  this  to  any  one." 

I  tried  to  sleep,  but  could  not. 

The  sun  rose  clear.  On  part  of  the  line,  at  our  left,  the  Con- 
federate intrenchments  could  be  seen  where  they  ran  at  the 
other  side  of  a  field.  Our  men  were  very  serious ;  they  had 
the  feeling  that  an  assault  would  prove  a  slaughter.  General 
Warren  became  convinced  that  it  would  be  disastrous.  Al- 
though positive  orders  had  been  issued  for  an  advance,  he  took 
the  responsibility  of  refusing,  and  General  Meade  —  after  ex- 
amining the  ground  —  approved  of  General  Warren's  refusal. 

The  army  marched  back  to  the  north  side  of  the  Rapidan. 


XI 


HOLLOW   BUTTONS 

"  What  noise  is  this  ?    What  traitors  have  we  here  ?  " 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

MORE  than  once  Captain  Scranton  had  been  upon  the  point 
of  confiding  to  me  some  project  which  he  had  devised,  —  some- 
thing, I  thought,  that  regarded  his  personal  interests,  and  in 
which,  therefore,  I  refrained  from  showing  a  great  curiosity ; 
perhaps  his  never  unburdening  was  due  to  my  refusal  to  en- 
courage him. 

Lydia  did  not  like  Scranton.  His  way  of  addressing  her  with 
a  Shakespearian  line  more  or  less  inapplicable,  was  unpleas- 
ant to  her ;  she  thought  him  wanting  in  respect  to  both  her- 
self and  the  poet. 

One  morning  she  drove  me  away ;  a  critical  experiment  was 
to  be  made,  in  order  to  see  if  Colonel  Paull's  life  could  not  be 
saved,  and  I  was  classed  as  a  nuisance.  I  went  to  see  Scranton. 

When  I  entered  his  tent,  he  rose  in  haste  —  almost  in  con- 
fusion ;  —  he  had  been  bending  over  his  cot,  looking  at  some 
papers  which  he  now  folded  and  put  into  his  pocket.  He  got 
out  his  pipe,  and  we  sat  together,  smoking  in  silence. 

After  a  while,  he  said :  "  Meade  is  '  slow  in  making  good 
his  boisterous  late  appeal.'  I'm  getting  tired  of  this  thing, 
Berwick." 

"  We'll  be  compelled  to  wait  until  the  roads  are  dry,  Cap- 
tain." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  sighed ;  "  dam  this  wet  country.  Yet,  as 
you  say,  Berwick,  '  There  is  no  virtue  like  necessity.' " 

114 


HOLLOW  BUTTONS  115 

"  We  tried  it  at  Mine  Run,"  I  replied ;  "  and  had  to  march 
back.  We  couldn't  stay  over  there  all  the  winter." 

"  Yes.  Wonder  how  it  happened  that  I  did  not  see  you  on 
that  frolic ! " 

"  I  was  with  General  Warren,"  said  I. 

"And  I  with  that  fellow  French.  Berwick,  your  blessed 
republic  is  not  very  republican.  I  tell  you  that  this  young 
shoot  of  old  England  is  but  an  experiment  after  all.  Confess 
now,  that  you  are  more  absolute  than  we  are." 

I  had  never  believed  Scranton  an  Englishman,  and  his  un- 
necessary challenge  now  made  me  suspect  that  he  was  leading 
me  purposely.  I  gave  no  reply. 

"  You  will  not  last  a  hundred  years,"  he  continued ;  "  even  if 
this  war  does  not  break  you  up,  the  influence  of  Europe  will 
tell  on  you  in  the  end.  Look  how  your  southern  neighbours 
are  going." 

"  The  Confederacy  ?  " 

"  Lord,  man !  No.  I'm  not  speaking  of  the  Confederacy. 
I'm  talking  about  — "  he  stopped,  and  rose,  and  began  stamp- 
ing, as  though  he  needed  exercise.  I  continued  to  smoke,  saying 
nothing ;  I  would  give  him  no  invitation  to  tell  me  anything ; 
he  might  do  as  he  chose.  Of  course,  I  knew  now  that  he  had 
referred  to  Mexico,  and  I  was  puzzled  —  yet,  after  all,  this  part 
of  his  talk  might  have  been  mere  padding,  so  to  speak. 

After  a  little,  I  rose.  I  would  go  back  and  learn  how  Colo- 
nel Paull  had  stood  the  crisis.  At  this  instant  a  man's  voice 
was  heard  outside :  "  Captain,  the  coast  is  clear,  and  I  should 
be  pleased  to  see  you  a  moment !  " 

Scranton  turned  red  and  rushed  out. 

There  could  be  no  mistake  —  the  voice  and  accent  were 
Scherzer's,  though  the  words  were  not. 

I  was  yet  standing  still ;  I  knew  not  what  to  do ;  but  now 
I  heard  footsteps,  the  sounds  receding.  When,  throwing  off 
my  embarrassment,  I  had  gone  out,  no  one  was  visible. 

Scherzer's  self-betrayal  of  deceit  had  been  full ;  but  what 


116       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

was  the  purpose  of  this  deceit  ?  Some  persistent  scheme  was 
working,  —  some  scheme  of  rare  importance,  for  it  was  forcing 
Scherzer,  knowing  good  English,  to  feign  constantly. 

Back  at  the  Sanitary  Camp,  Lydia  met  me  with  a  smile. 
Colonel  Paull  had  shown  great  fortitude ;  the  operation  had 
been  successful.  There  were  high  hopes  of  his  recovery. 

It  was  now  January.  But  for  Lydia's  dear  presence  I 
should  have  become  restless  long  ago,  and  should  have  wel- 
comed change.  It  may  appear  strange  that  this  girl  should 
remain  here  through  the  cold  season,  but  she  was  not  the  only 
devoted  nurse  who  did  so ;  there  were  many  others  in  atten- 
dance at  the  great  hospitals  far  in  the  rear,  at  Washington, 
and  elsewhere,  and  there  were  a  few  who  like  Lydia  Khayme 
chose  to  be  near  the  scene  of  action,  especially  those  who  had 
some  natural  protector.  Ever  since  daughter  and  father  had 
begun  their  duties  with  the  army,  they  had  had  no  home 
except  the  Sanitary  Camp  and  the  hospital.  Their  work  was 
not  light,  and  it  was  not  pleasant,  but  they  felt  it  to  be  duty. 
Lydia  was  relieved  of  much  by  her  father's  skill  and  tact ; 
she  had  the  utmost  confidence  in  his  known  and  unknown 
ability,  and  knew  or  felt  how  and  where  she  could  apply  her 
work  to  advantage  and  when  and  where  she  might  abstain.  It 
is  said  that  a  woman  is  endowed  with  intuitive  power  greater 
than  man's,  and  I  attributed  to  this  faculty  the  dislike  Lydia 
had  for  Scranton.  This  dislike  had  never  been  such  as  to 
oppress  her,  or  if  such,  she  had  known  how  to  be  silent ;  yet 
I  was  aware  that  it  was  strong  enough  to  prevent  her  having 
any  pleasure  in  hearing  his  name. 

******* 

One  evening  we  were  in  the  Doctor's  tent,  busy  all  of  us :  I, 
writing  out  an  account  of  my  experience ;  he,  engaged  at  tinker- 
ing at  something  in  a  corner ;  Lydia,  sewing. 

"  Come  here,  Jones,"  said  the  Doctor. 

I  rose  and  went  to  him.  Before  him,  on  a  camp-table,  were 
some  coat  buttons. 


HOLLOW   BUTTONS  117 

"  You  know  that  I  told  you  I  would  provide  a  safe  place  for 
your  pass ;  I  am  going  to  take  off  the  lid  of  this  button,"  he 
said,  taking  one  of  them,  and  holding  it  before  me. 

"  The  lid  of  the  button  ! " 

"Yes." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  a  button  had  a  lid." 

"Neither  did  I,  but  this  one  has.  It  requires  a  peculiar 
instrument  to  get  into  it.  Shall  I  open  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  Doctor." 

"Jones,"  he  said,  with  something  like  uneasiness,  "please 
go  out  and  see  if  there  is  not  some  one  near.  I  think  I  heard 
footsteps." 

Outside  I  saw  a  man's  back  some  thirty  yards  away. 
The  man  was  walking  very  hastily;  I  shouted  at  him;  he 
ran. 

I  returned  to  the  Doctor  and  reported. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  he ;  "  now  keep  the  door  open ;  let  the 
eavesdropper  come  in,  if  he  wishes." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  peculiar  instrument,  indeed ;  it 
looked  like  a  spoon.  He  placed  the  bowl  of  the  spoon  on  the 
surface  of  the  button,  held  the  eye  of  the  button  firmly  between 
his  left  forefinger  and  thumb,  and  began  to  turn  the  spoon. 
Slowly  round  and  round  it  went,  and  I  could  now  understand 
that  the  lid  of  the  button  had  been  cut  on  its  edge  with  threads, 
and  fitted  on  as  a  tap  fits  a  screw.  When  the  lid  was  off,  a 
small  hollow  was  seen  —  a  hollow  that  might  contain  a  half- 
ounce  ball.  I  examined  the  spoon ;  its  bowl  showed  an  inden- 
tation—  a  reverse  of  the  eagle  of  the  button,  over  which  it 
fitted  exactly. 

"And  I  must  take  that  monkey-wrench  with  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  no;  if  necessary  to  produce  the  writing,  smash  the 
button." 

"  I  see ;  and  then  use  another." 

"  Exactly.  They  are  not  made  of  brass,  but  of  a  composition 
less  malleable." 


118        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Doctor,  who  made  them  for  you  ?  " 

"I  made  them.  No  one  knows  of  them  except  ourseives, 
Jones.  Let  me  have  General  Meade's  order." 

I  brought  it.  The  Doctor  carefully  cut  away  every  particle 
of  the  sheet  from  around  the  written  lines. 

"  It  is  not  small  enough  yet,"  said  he ;  "  but  it  will  be  before 
we  sleep." 

He  spread  the  paper,  writing  down,  on  an  open  book ;  then 
with  a  rough  eraser  he  began  to  work  on  the  blank  surface, 
patiently  thinning  the  sheet. 

"  Why  did  you  make  ten  buttons,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  make  ten ;  I  made  seven." 

"  Seven  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  three  of  them  are  ordinary  buttons.  See  if  you  can 
pick  them  out." 

I  examined  and  compared,  but  saw  no  difference. 

The  Doctor  took  three  buttons  in  his  hand.  "  When  I  heard 
that  footstep,"  he  whispered,  "  I  added  these  three." 

"Why  did  you  make  just  seven?"  I  asked. 

"  Only  to  have  one  or  two  in  reserve ;  some  of  them  might 
be  lost,  or  broken,"  said  he,  putting  the  three  buttons  back 
with  the  others. 

"  Do  you  think  any  one  else  could  be  interested  in  our  talk  ?" 
I  asked. 

Without  giving  any  reply  to  my  question,  he  said,  "  Now,  let 
us  try  your  order." 

He  folded  the  paper,  and  continued  to  fold  it  until  it  was 
very  compact  and  small,  and  then  placed  it  into  the  hollow 
of  the  button,  and  screwed  on  the  lid. 

"Now,  observe,"  said  Dr.  Khayme,  "that  this  button  has 
your  private  mark  upon  it,  which  is  nothing  but  a  cross 
scratched  on  the  under  side." 

"I  see,"  said  I;  "but  the  scratch  is  very  slight.  It  may 
wear  out." 

"  Hardly.     If  you  are  compelled  to  break  this  button,  Jones, 


HOLLOW   BUTTONS  119 

you  must  be  careful ;  a  heavy  blow  may  destroy  the  paper,  or 
at  least  render  the  writing  illegible." 

A  noise  was  heard  outside.     Scranton  entered. 

"  Good  evening,  Doctor.     Your  servant,  Miss  Khayme." 

The  captain  and  I  saluted  with  concise  nods. 

" '  What  dost  thou  with  thy  best  apparel  on  ? ' " 

"A  present  from  General  Warren,  Captain.  I  spoiled  my 
clothes  in  his  service." 

" '  Wherefore  breaks  that  sigh,'  Miss  Khayme  ?  " 

The  Doctor  seemed  about  to  reply. 

"  Yes ;  you  are  right,  Doctor ;  invariably  accurate  in  thought 
and  word.  I  called  merely  to  pay  my  respects.  I  was  passing 
and  saw  your  door  open.  Good  night,  all ;  '  I'll  go  sleep ;  if 
not  I'll  rail  against  all  the  first-born  of  Egypt/  Good  night, 
Miss  Khayme ;  I  merely  stopped  to  pay  my  respects." 
******* 

"'He  doth  protest  too  much,  methinks,'"  quoted  Dr. 
Khayme. 

"  Doctor,"  I  asked,  "  has  this  button  and  has  that  man  any 
relation  to  the  work  I  am  to  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  he ;  "  but  I  cannot  tell  you  yet  what  the  relation 
is.  Be  patient,  my  boy ;  things  are  clearing  up  a  little  before 
my  eyes ;  all  will  come  right  in  good  time." 

And  I  had  to  be  content,  or  at  least  silent ;  and  I  found  com- 
fort in  knowing  that  my  work  in  The  Wilderness  and  at  Mine 
Run  had  been  kept  from  Scranton's  knowledge. 


XII 

MYSTEBY 

"  Macbeth.  Ride  you  this  afternoon  ? 
Banquo.  Ay,  my  good  lord." 

—  SHAKESPEABI. 

A  DAY  or  two  later  Captain  Scranton  rode  up  to  the  Doctor's 
tent  and,  without  dismounting,  called  me. 

"  Come,  ride." 

"  Where,  Captain,  and  why  ?  " 

My  horse  needed  exercise,  but  somehow  I  did  not  wish  to 
go;  I  had  observed  that  the  man's  eyes  wandered;  he  was 
looking  curiously  into  the  tents.  Lydia's  antipathy  to  the 
captain  suddenly  became  alarming  to  me.  I  remembered  that 
when  he  had  come  into  the  tent  on  the  night  when  the  buttons 
were  shown  me,  Lydia  had  been  present,  and  had  not  spoken 
to  him  once. 

Yet  I  knew  that  the  man  was  a  melancholy  being,  and 
I  had  pity  for  him.  He  was  attracted  by  Lydia,  but  there 
certainly  was  no  fear  that  he  could  acquire  any  standing 
before  her.  Although  I  was  never  in  the  least  degree 
diplomatic,  yet  I  now  thought  that  I  should  better  see 
to  it  that  Lydia  did  not  suffer  from  the  man's  attentions, 
and  I  decided  to  go  with  him.  I  felt  that  I  was  his  superior 
in  everything  except  rank  and  age,  and  had  no  fear  that  I 
should  be  unable  to  cope  with  him  in  any  way,  mentally  or 
physically. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  Captain." 

120 


MYSTERY  121 

We  cantered  down  the  road  toward  Madison.  How  it 
happened  that  this  road  had  been  chosen,  I  did  not  know, 
and  just  because  I  did  not  know  I  wondered.  I  had  been 
down  this  road,  or  rather  up  it,  under  A.  P.  Hill,  when 
the  Third  corps  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  was 
trying  to  get  into  Meade's  rear,  and  even  before  that  time; 
this  road  had  nothing  of  special  interest,  yet  it  was  fair 
to  presume,  I  thought,  that  the  captain  did  as  well  to  select 
this  road,  as  he  would  have  done  in  selecting  any  other;  all 
roads  are  to  be  ridden  upon,  and  some  road  must  have  been 
chosen. 

Contrary  to  his  habit,  Mr.  Scrapton  said  little  as  we  rode 
on  down  toward  Madison,  passing  and  meeting  soldiers,  in- 
fantry single  and  in  squads,  cavalry  more  numerous,  returning 
doubtless  from  picket  duty  on  the  river  higher  up.  It  was 
evident  that  something  was  disturbing  him  to-day.  From  time 
to  time,  as  the  varied  speed  of  our  horses  gave  me  opportunity, 
I  could  see  his  face  without  my  being  observed ;  he  looked 
anxious  and  alert.  What  could  he  be  expecting  ?  What  could 
he  intend  ? 

We  reached  a  high  hill  and  halted.  Far  southward  were 
the  hills  of  Orange  where  we  knew  Lee  was  encamped,  to  the 
west  the  foothills  of  the  mountains,  and  farther  away  the  Blue 
Ridge  with  its  winter  coat  of  snow  melting  —  almost  gone. 
The  mountains  near  Gordonsville  could  be  seen,  and  at  our 
left,  Slaughter  Mountain,  where  Banks  and  Stonewall  Jack- 
son had  fought  in  August,  '62.  Here  and  there  was  the 
Robertson,  and  beyond  it  the  thinly  spread  smoke  of  many 
camps. 

"  Pity  to  fight  those  people,"  said  Scranton. 

"  Why  should  they  fight  us  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Who  began  it  ?  " 

"  Both,  I  think,  Captain." 

"  D the  whole  business,  I  say." 

Four  mounted  men  were  approaching.      I   saw  that   the 


122        A   FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

captain  was  observing  them.  "  Tough-looking  set/'  he 
said. 

Indeed  they  were  a  tough-looking  set,  especially  tough  the 
one  who  was  riding  in  front.  They  were  well  mounted,  and 
well  armed  —  a  party,  I  guessed,  returning  to  camp  after  some 
duty  done  at  the  front.  The  sun  had  set,  but  there  was  light 
sufficient  for  seeing  the  features  of  the  men,  who  passed  near 
us,  saluting  the  captain  as  they  passed.  My  perception  was 
keen,  and  I  kept  close  watch  of  Scranton.  In  returning  the 
salute  I  thought  that  his  hand  went  through  a  motion  unneces- 
sary—  a  sort  of  semicircle  before  it  fell  to  his  side.  There 
might  be  nothing  in  it,  yet  I  determined  to  be  careful  Scran- 
ton  still  sat  his  horse  with  his  face  to  the  south,  saying  very 
little.  I  looked  quickly  to  the  rear,  and  saw  that  the  leader 
of  the  party  had  turned  in  his  saddle  and  was  looking  back. 
Immediately  they  broke  into  a  gallop  and  disappeared  at  a 
bend  of  the  road. 

I  turned  to  Scranton.     He  seemed  absorbed  in  revery. 

It  was  high  time  that  we  should  start  back ;  we  were  seven 
or  eight  miles  from  camp  and  night  was  falling ;  neither  of  us 
was  armed. 

"  Captain,  let's  go  back,"  said  I. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  and  turned  his  horse ;  but  he  started 
at  a  slow  walk. 

" '  Fall  somewhat  into  a  slower  method,'  "  he  quoted. 

I  was  ahead  of  him,  and  I  feared  him,  though  for  what 
reason  I  could  not  have  told ;  I  brought  my  horse  also  to  a 
walk,  and  we  rode  on  side  by  side. 

"  The  guerillas  are  very  enterprising,"  said  he. 

"  What  have  they  been  doing  lately  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Came  in  an  ace  of  getting  Major  Cole  the  other  night." 

"What  Major  Cole?" 

"  Maryland  cavalry.  Then,  they've  captured  many  men  from 
the  Fifth  New  York  cavalry  on  duty  between  Germ  anna  and 
the  Rappahannock.  They  come  up  disguised  and  catch  our 


MYSTERY  123 

people  without  a  fight  sometimes.  General  Pleasonton  gave 
orders  weeks  ago  to  hang  every  one  caught  in  blue  uniform. 
How  far  off  are  Lee's  men  ?  "  he  asked.1 

"  Only  a  few  miles ;  three  miles  or  so,"  I  said. 

"  All  this  western  flank  ought  to  be  picketed,"  said  he. 

"Too  hard  on  the  men,  Captain." 

"  I'd  hate  to  be  caught ! " 

I  felt  that  the  captain's  talk  was  purposely  devised,  but 
could  not  understand  his  motive.  What  connection  could  our 
mysterious  ride  have  with  guerillas  ?  I  continued  to  keep  my 
eyes  and  ears  open. 

We  had  come  only  about  two  miles  of  the  way  returning, 
when  I  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  just  in  our  rear,  follow- 
ing us  at  about  fifty  yards  or  so,  were  two  mounted  men ;  they 
were  keeping  their  horses  at  a  speed  to  correspond  with  ours. 
Their  horses'  hoofs  on  flinty  earth  had  first  attracted  my  notice, 
we  being  at  the  time  on  soft  ground.  Scranton  did  not  seem 
to  hear  the  noise ;  he  sat  in  his  saddle  heedless  of  the  near 
presence  of  the  men ;  I  thought  best  not  to  let  him  know  that 
I  observed  his  lack  of  interest. 

The  road  ran  through  a  hollow.  Darkness  had  come.  Just 
as  we  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill,  two  horsemen  came  down 


*  "  GENERAL  ORDERS,  HEADQUARTERS  CAVALRY  CORPS, 

No.  6.  ARMY  OF  THE  POTOMAC,  January,  15,  1864. 

"...  Every  guerilla  or  other  rebel  wearing  the  uniform  of  a  United  States 
soldier  caught  in  the  act  of  making  war  against  any  of  the  forces  of  this  com- 
mand will  be  hung  on  the  spot. 

"  III.   Division  commanders  will  cause  this  order  to  be  carefully  read  to  each 
of  the  regiments  of  their  command,  that  the  men  and  officers  may  fully  under- 
stand it.    A  report  will  be  made  to  these  headquarters  to  that  effect  after 
these  instructions  have  been  read  out  in  each  division. 
"  By  command  of 

"  MAJOR  GENERAL  PLEASONTON, 

"E.  B.  PARSONS, 

"Acting  Assistant  Adjutant-General." 

[ED.] 


124        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  opposite  hill  to  meet  us.  They  presented  carbines  —  one 
at  Scranton  and  one  at  rne,  and  commanded  us  to  surrender, 
using  oaths  and  words  that  sounded  unnatural. 

"God!  Guerillas,  just  as  I  expected,"  said  Scranton;  then, 
"  Don't  shoot,  men ;  we  are  unarmed.  Berwick,  I  suppose  we 
can  do  nothing  else." 

Now  I  knew  very  well  that  these  men  were  not  Southerners. 
They  were  too  profane ;  at  least  their  profanity  was  not  that 
of  an  agricultural  development ;  it  was  like  that  of  the  slums. 
Their  voices  were  not  Southern  voices.  Even  if  there  was 
nothing  else  to  betray  them,  I  knew  by  their  voices  that  they 
were  not  Southern. 

At  the  call  of  Scranton  the  men  had  lowered  their  carbines ; 
as  they  did  so  I  struck  my  spurs  into  my  horse  and  darted 
between  the  men  and  on  up  the  hill.  Shots  were  fired,  and 
then  I  heard  hoofs  in  pursuit.  Soon  I  knew  that  but  one  man 
was  following ;  I  looked  around  and  saw  Scranton.  I  pulled  up. 

"  A  narrow  escape,  Berwick,  by ,  it  was ! " 

I  was  sure  that  he  had  not  been  fired  on.  I  did  not  know 
how  to  answer  the  man.  To  let  him  know  that  I  suspected 
would  be  folly.  I  was  glad  that  night  hid  my  face  from  him. 
I  must  answer. 

"Was  your  horse  hit?" 

"No." 

"  Mine  was,  I  think." 

Perhaps  the  words  were  indiscreet.  A  moment  afterward 
I  heard  horses  —  more  than  one  or  two  —  galloping  hard. 

But  now  the  captain  cried,  "  I'll  stand  by  you,  Berwick. 
Come,"  and  dashed  on  toward  our  camp.  How  badly  my  horse 
had  been  shot  I  could  not  tell.  For  a  time  he  kept  abreast  of 
Scranton's;  at  last  he  began  to  fail.  Scranton  lessened  his 
speed. 

"  Mount  behind  me,"  he  said,  "  and  we  may  save  your  horse." 

"  No,  Captain ! "  I  cried,  "  we  should  both  be  caught ;  you 
ride  on  as  fast  as  you  can." 


MYSTERY  125 

But  he  would  not  leave  me.  The  hoofs  were  loud  behind 
us ;  no  doubt  four  pursuers  were  near.  I  could  not  understand 
Scranton.  I  had  suspected  that  he  had  led  me  into  a  trap; 
now  he  was  trying  to  get  me  out  of  it ;  yet  his  intention  might 
be  to  avert  suspicion. 

I  sprang  from  my  horse,  gave  Scranton  the  bridle,  and  darted 
across  the  road.  Scranton  seemed  to  understand,  and  galloped 
on  toward  the  north,  leading  my  horse. 

I  did  not  go  far  from  the  road.  Soon  I  saw  four  men  riding 
fast  after  Scranton. 

It  was  yet  three  miles  to  the  Doctor's  camp,  but  I  thought 
nothing  of  a  walk  of  three  miles.  I  saw  no  more  of  these 
riders  or  of  Scranton. 

Lydia  was  in  the  tent.  She  showed  anxiety,  and  at  once 
great  relief. 

"  Where  is  the  Doctor  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  is  attending  to  your  horse.  Oh,  I  was  so  frightened ; 
he  returned  alone,  and  bleeding !  " 

"  Scranton  has  not  been  here  ?  " 

"Scranton?    No;  why?" 

I  told  her  of  the  night's  encounter.  She  was  moved,  but 
showed  no  great  surprise.  I  went  out  and  found  the  Doctor 
hard  at  work  extracting  a  ball  from  the  haunch  of  poor  Reb. 

"  It  is  not  at  all  dangerous,"  said  he,  "  but  it  is  difficult  to 
get  at ;  however,  I've  found  it,  and  I'll  get  it." 

He  did  get  it  soon,  and  said  that  the  horse  would  get 
well. 

"  He  has  lost  much  blood,"  said  he ;  "  but  for  that  he  might 
carry  you  at  once.  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

As  we  walked  to  the  tent  I  told  him,  and  added,  "  I  cannot 
understand  Scranton  at  all.  For  a  time  I  was  sure  he  was 
playing  me  false,  and  now  I  don't  know  about  it." 

"  You  know  that  those  men  were  not  guerillas  ?  " 

"  They  were  not  Southern  men.  If  they  are  guerillas,  they 
are  renegades.  I  wonder  why  Scranton  has  not  appeared." 


126        A  FRIEND   WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Is  it  not  possible  he  is  a  prisoner  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  unless  lie  was  fooling  me." 

"  Is  it  not  possible  that  remorse  overtook  him  while  in  the 
act  of  betraying  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  Doctor.  It  is  possible,  but  Scran- 
ton  is  a  hard  man,  and  I  don't  think  it  likely  that  your  sug- 
gestion is  the  right  one.  You  know  that  he  is  attracted  by 
Lydia?" 

"  Many  men  are,"  said  he. 

When  we  entered  the  tent  we  found  Lydia  getting  my  supper 
ready.  The  Doctor  asked  her  whether  she  had  seen  anything 
of  Scranton. 

"  No,  Father.  I  have  not  seen  him.  Why  should  you  ask 
me?" 

"  Jones  suspects  him  of  treachery,"  said  he. 

"  I  know  that  I  should  not  trust  him,"  said  Lydia. 

"  But  why  ?  "     I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  Jones." 

While  I  was  eating,  the  Doctor  and  Lydia  conversed  in  low 
tones.  I  knew  that  Captain  Scranton  was  the  subject  of  their 
talk. 

Steps  were  heard  outside.  The  Doctor  went  out  and  returned, 
followed  by  Scranton.  The  captain's  condition  was  deplor- 
able ;  he  was  too  exhausted  to  talk  ;  his  clothing  was  torn ;  his 
face  was  bleeding.  Lydia  left  the  tent.  The  Doctor,  to  my 
astonishment,  made  no  approach  to  Scranton  in  order  to  relieve 
him.  For  my  part  I  did  not  know  what  to  do,  but  I  rose  and 
offered  Scranton  a  chair  at  the  table  and  asked  him  to  eat. 
He  shook  his  head,  but  afterward  sat  down  and  began  to  eat, 
swallowing  first  a  great  draught  of  water. 

"  They  got  me,"  he  said ;  "  they  plundered  me  of  my  watch 
and  money,  and  took  my  horse,  and  yours,  too,  Berwick."  This 
was  said  by  jerks. 

The  Doctor's  attitude  was  indifferent.  For  my  part,  the 
story  might  be  true,  I  thought.  Was  it  not  very  absurd  to 


MYSTERY  127 

imagine  that  Captain  Scranton,  an  aide  in  some  sort  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  should  be  in 
league  with  ruffians  to  do  away  with  so  humble  a  person  as  my- 
self—  not  only  in  league  with  them,  but  their  suborner  even  ? 
And  for  what  ?  For  the  purpose  of  freeing  Lydia  ?  For  the 
purpose  of  winning  a  woman  who,  he  might  easily  see,  con- 
temned him  ?  Was  it  not  more  simple  to  believe  that  he  had 
fallen  a  victim,  just  as  I  had,  to  a  few  bold  bushwhackers  of 
Mosby,  who  were  known  to  infest  the  mountains  within  a  day's 
ride  of  us  ?  Only  forty -eight  hours  ago  Lieutenant  Ward,  of 
the  Third  Pennsylvania  cavalry,  had  been  surprised  near  War- 
renton,  far  in  our  rear,  and  had  lost  many  men.  Yet  I  knew 
that  the  men  who  had  stopped  us  were  not  Southerners.  It 
was  possible  that  there  were  renegades  in  Mosby's  command, 
or  in  some  other  of  the  partisan  bands  which  were  giving  our 
outposts  and  trains  so  much  trouble ;  there  were  many  such 
bodies,  more  or  less  reputable.  How  easy  it  would  be  for  ruf- 
fians to  organize  in  Maryland  and  prey  upon  stragglers  and 
upon  citizens  —  pretending  to  be  soldiers  of  one  army  or  the 
other,  to  suit  contingencies.  I  also  knew  the  possibility  that 
Scranton  was  at  this  moment  playing  for  the  great  stake  of  his 
reputation  with  General  Meade.  In  order  to  avert  suspicion 
he  might  easily  be  willing  to  lose  horse,  watch,  money,  and  to 
tear  his  clothes,  and  scratch  his  face  a  little.  Yet  as  he  sat 
there,  woebegone  and  silent,  it  required  imagination  to  suspect 
that  he  was  only  acting  a  part.  But,  was  he  not  an  actor  ? 
Had  not  his  training  been  such  that  he  could  have  no  difficulty 
in  deceit  ? 

The  Doctor  rose,  and  said  in  his  usual  tones :  — 

"  Captain  Scranton,  I  propose  a  parley." 

The  man  started,  but  recovered  instantly,  saying,  "  Speak 
on,  Doctor." 

"  I  propose  that  you  request  General  Meade  to  obtain  for  you 
a  position  west  of  the  Mississippi." 

"  And  suppose  that  I  do  not  consent  ?  " 


128        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Then  I  shall  propose  to  General  Meade  that  he  obtain  for 
you  a  position  west  of  the  Mississippi." 

The  captain  hesitated  an  instant  before  he  spoke  again. 

"  And  suppose  General  Meade  does  not  consent  ?  " 

"  General  Meade  will  consent." 

"  Why  am  I  to  be  banished,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  discuss  with  you ;  I  parley." 

"  When  must  I  answer  ?  " 

"  Before  you  leave  this  tent,  sir." 

"  Do  you  insist  on  the  transfer  being  made  at  once  ?  n 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  I  refuse." 

Dr.  Khayme  approached  Captain  Scranton  and  brought 
the  candle  nearer  to  the  edge  of  the  table  where  the  man  was 
sitting ;  then  he  drew  a  folded  paper  from  his  breast-pocket, 
and  spread  it  on  the  table  before  Scran  ton's  eyes. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"  Read  it,"  said  the  Doctor. 

The  captain  looked  down,  and  in  an  instant  tried  to  seize  the 
paper,  but  Dr.  Khayme  was  too  quick  for  him. 

"  I  yield  to  your  demand,  sir,"  said  the  captain. 

"Then  oblige  me  by  waiting  one  moment." 

The  Doctor  went  to  his  desk  and  wrote ;  then  he  brought 
what  he  had  written,  and  put  it  before  Scranton. 

"  Sign,"  said  the  Doctor. 

Evidently  Scranton  did  not  like  it,  but  he  signed. 


XIII 

WITH   MEADE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

"  We  go  to  ope  again 
The  purple  testament  of  bleeding  war."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  movement  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  the  south  of 
the  Rapidan  in  the  preceding  winter  had  shown  the  Union 
generals  the  perils  of  The  Wilderness,  and  had  convinced  them 
that  battle  in  its  depths  might  easily  prove  disastrous.  It  has 
been  noted  that  in  that  movement,  Meade's  army  had  advanced 
by  parallel  roads  against  Lee's  right  flank,  and  had  met  no 
serious  opposition  until  the  fortified  position  of  Mine  Run  was 
reached.  If  Meade,  instead  of  turning  to  his  right  after  cross- 
ing the  river,  had  marched  rapidly  past  Chancellorsville,  and 
on  toward  the  south,  in  all  probability  he  would  have  passed 
through  the  dangerous  thickets  before  Lee's  army,  then 
stretched  in  winter  quarters  along  the  river  for  many  miles, 
could  have  concentrated.  With  the  purpose  of  profiting  by  his 
experience  General  Meade  now,  in  the  beginning  of  May,  re- 
solved to  march  through  the  forest  southward  and  get  beyond 
The  Wilderness  before  bringing  on  a  battle.  His  hopes,  how- 
ever, took  little  account  of  the  fact  that  Lee,  to  whom  also  the 
Mine  Run  campaign  had  given  added  experience,  was  now  in 
constant  expectation  of  such  a  movement  on  the  part  of  his 
enemy.  The  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  it  is  true,  was  yet 
in  winter  quarters  from  Orange  Court-House  down  to  Morton's 
Ford,  but  the  full  opening  of  spring  was  a  menace  which  its 
general  could  not  disregard ;  he  watched  more  closely  the 
lower  fords,  and  held  his  forces  ready  to  march  upon  the  point 
K  129 


130        A.  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

that  should  be  threatened.  In  the  latter  part  of  April  Gen- 
eral Longstreet  with  two  divisions  of  infantry  had  reached 
Gordonsville,  and  Lee  now  had  an  army  which  for  relative 
numbers  was  as  able  to  meet  Grant  as  had  been  his  two  corps 
to  cope  with  Meade  in  November. 

******* 

Dr.  Khayme,  in  preparation  for  his  own  unhindered  atten- 
dance upon  the  army  in  its  advance,  was  sending  Lydia  to 
Washington  for  a  short  while,  whence  she  would  come  at  need 
to  serve  in  the  general  hospitals  wherever  the  contingencies  of 
the  campaign  might  determine  their  locations. 

Colonel  Paull,  though  speech  was  difficult,  had  sufficiently 
recovered  from  his  wound  to  justify  his  removal,  and  had  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  be  exchanged,  by  special  arrangement  which 
he  attributed  to  Dr.  Khayme's  influence,  for  a  distinguished 
Federal  officer  confined  in  Libby  prison.  When  the  colonel 
left  us  he  had  shed  tears  in  trying  to  express  his  gratitude  to 
both  the  Doctor  and  Lydia. 

For  this  campaign,  which,  from  the  reputation  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief,  and  the  immense  preparation  made,  was 
expected  by  all  to  be  conclusive  of  the  war,  and  therefore  of 
unexampled  severity,  my  own  preparation  had  been  small.  My 
duplicate  uniform  was  yet  worn,  although  I  knew  that  warm 
weather  would  soon  force  me  to  abandon  it.  I  rode  practically 
unarmed,  carrying  the  Enfield  and  accoutrements;  I  served 
with  the  Second  corps. 

On  the  morning  of  May  4,  Hancock's  corps  crossed  the  Rap- 
idan  without  opposition  and  took  the  road  from  Ely's  Ford  to 
Chancellorsville.  The  three  other  infantry  corps  crossed  at 
the  fords  above  Ely's;  our  right  flank,  therefore,  was  well 
guarded.  The  position  of  Chancellorsville  is  important  from 
its  proximity  to  the  point  where  the  two  great  roads  from 
Orange  to  Fredericksburg  meet.  At  Chancellorsville,  Han- 
cock was  between  Lee  and  Fredericksburg,  and  the  open  coun- 
try to  the  south  was  within  a  day's  march  by  good  roads  to 


WITH   MEADE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         131 

Todd's  Tavern,  and  to  Spottsylvania,  on  the  southern  border  of 
The  Wilderness.  To  have  marched  on  at  once  would  seem  to 
have  been  the  correct  movement,  but  General  Meade,  fearing 
for  his  immense  wagon-trains  now  crossing  at  Ely's  behind  the 
Second  corps,  had  ordered  Hancock  to  bivouac  at  Chancellors- 
ville.  The  divisions  reached  their  positions  promptly,  skir- 
mishers were  deployed  in  front  and  flank,  and  the  corps  rested 
for  the  remainder  of  the  fourth. 

At  daybreak  of  the  5th  we  moved  out  on  the  road  to  Todd's 
Tavern,  passing  by  the  Welford  furnaces.  Todd's  was  reached 
at  eight  o'clock.  At  nine,  the  head  of  column  having  halted 
some  two  miles  west  of  Todd's,  General  Hancock  received 
orders  from  General  Meade  to  march  at  once  by  the  Brock 
road  and  connect  with  Warren's  left. 

Meantime,  General  Lee  had  been  informed  by  his  signal 
corps  that  the  Federal  army  was  in  motion,  and  he  began  to 
put  into  execution  a  project  formed  long  previously  —  he  would 
shut  Meade  up  in  The  Wilderness.  Writers  upon  the  military 
art  have  almost  universally  commended  this  decision  of  the 
great  Confederate ;  he  could  hope  to  equal  Meade  in  the  thick- 
ets, where  the  powerful  artillery  of  the  Federals  could  be  used 
to  little  advantage,  and  where  his  own  men  could  avail  them- 
selves of  bush  and  tree,  and  by  greater  celerity  baffle  masses 
which  could  not  move  in  orderly  deployment  through  the  jun- 
gles. Evidence  that  he  was  correct  in  this  decision  is  furnished 
in  the  fact  that  in  the  battles  of  the  5th  and  6th  of  May  the 
Confederate  troops  expended  their  cartridges  and  had  their 
boxes  replenished,  while  the  Federals  fired  but  eleven  rounds 
to  the  man. l 

At  the  moment  when  General  Meade  ordered  the  Second 
corps  to  countermarch  by  the  Brock  road,  that  corps,  but  for 
the  character  of  the  terrain  on  which  Lee  so  wisely  relied,  had 

1 "  As  a  somewhat  interesting  fact,  bearing  upon  the  character  of  the  con- 
flict, it  may  be  mentioned  that  eleven  rounds  of  ammunition  per  man  were  used 
by  the  army  during  the  three  days'  fight,  as  stated  by  the  chief  ordinance 
officer."  —  Report  of  Surgeon  McParlin,  Medical  Director  U.  S.  Army.  [Ed.] 


132        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  power  to  crush  the  right  flank  of  the  Confederate  army. 
Lee  had  advanced  two  columns  into  The  Wilderness  —  Ewell's 
corps  by  the  turnpike,  and  two  divisions  of  Hill's  by  the 
Plank  road  —  and  both  of  them  were  now  in  the  immediate 
front  of  Sedgwick  and  Warren  respectively,  who  were  com- 
pelled to  halt  their  southward  march  and  accept  at  once  the 
challenge  to  battle  on  the  ground  chosen  by  their  enemy. 
Hancock  was  south  of  A.  P.  Hill's  right  flank.  Had  he 
marched  against  that  flank,  and  reached  it  while  it  was  attack- 
ing Warren,  the  history  of  the  war  might  have  been  shortened 
by  a  year;  but  neither  Meade  nor  Hancock,  nor  even  Lee, 
knew  the  situation.  Battles  and  campaigns  are  lost  from  lack 
of  knowledge  when  and  where  to  strike.  The  countermarch 
was  made  and  a  great  opportunity  lost,  the  road  to  Parker's 
Store,  and  to  A.  P.  Hill's  flank,  being  unobstructed  at  the 
time. 

General  Hancock  ordered  me  to  ride  up  the  Brock  road  until 
I  should  find  Warren's  corps ;  then  I  was  to  return  at  once  and 
guide  the  Second  corps  to  the  position.  The  general  himself, 
leaving  the  head  of  his  column,  rode  not  far  behind  me,  with 
some  of  his  staff.  It  is  six  miles  from  Todd's  Tavern  to  the 
intersection  of  the  Brock  road  with  the  Plank  road  to  Orange. 
After  riding  hard  for  fifteen  minutes  I  came  to  the  unfinished 
railroad ;  now  I  could  hear  musketry  in  front,  and  a  little  to 
my  left.  A  little  further  on  and  I  could  see  smoke  rising,  not 
slowly  as  from  a  battlefield,  but  as  from  a  burning  forest.  I 
reached  the  Plank  road ;  the  sound  of  heavy  fighting  had  died 
away,  but  skirmishers  were  yet  at  work.  Our  men  held  the 
intersection.  I  asked  the  first  man  I  saw,  what  troops  were 
here;  they  were  of  Sedgwick's  corps,  —  of  Getty's  division, — 
which  had  been  sent  from  the  far  right  to  extend  Warren's 
line,  and  to  get  possession  of  the  crossing  of  the  two  roads ; 
they  were  intrenching. 

I  galloped  back,  and  met  General  Hancock  in  less  than  a 
mile.  He  ordered  an  aide  to  ride  to  the  corps  coming  behind 


WITH   MEADE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         133 

and  urge  it  on,  while  ihe  continued  up  the  Brock  road.  I  fell 
in  with  his  escort.  The  head  of  our  column  reached  the  inter- 
section at  two  o'clock  and  formed  at  once  on  Getty's  left  in  the 
road ;  the  troops,  as  they  came  up,  were  deployed  in  two  lines 
of  double  ranks,  —  from  right  to  left :  Birney,  Mott,  Gibbon, 
Barlow.  Both  lines  at  once  began  to  make  breastworks  of 
logs  and  earth. 

Here  I  was  ordered  by  General  Hancock  to  go  north  through 
the  woods  until  I  should  find  the  left  of  Warren's  line. 

"  General,  shall  I  return  to  you  ?  "  I  asked. 

"You  must  act  according  to  circumstances.  If  you  find 
Warren,  tell  him  that  I  am  advancing  and  that  he  ought  to 
advance ;  then,  if  you  can  do  so,  find  General  Meade  and 
report  to  him  our  position,"  he  replied. 

As  I  started,  Hancock's  troops  began  to  move  toward  the 
enemy,  and  as  I  rode  I  could  hear  loud  musketry  behind  me. 
The  Brock  road,  which  I  followed  for  some  distance,  was 
familiar ;  I  had  marched  here  under  Stonewall  Jackson'  on 
May  2,  '62,  in  his  great  turning  movement  against  Hooker.  But 
soon  I  left  the  Brock  road,  and  made  to  the  right  through  the 
woods.  It  was  now  about  three  o'clock.  Everywhere  was 
the  roar  of  musketry  deadened  by  the  thick  forest.  A  little  to 
the  left  of  my  front  I  could  hear  skirmish  firing,  and  I  knew 
that  the  Confederates  were  here  on  the  east  side  of  the  Brock 
road,  and  were  practically  between  Hancock  and  Warren.  Yet 
they  seemed  to  be  skirmishers  only.  I  deflected  further  to  my 
right,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  pass  them  mounted,  for  my  orders 
required  haste,  and  I  succeeded  in  doing  so,  and  at  last  in 
reaching  General  Wadsworth's  division  of  Warren's  corps, 
which  here  faced  almost  south.  I  delivered  my  message,  and 
saw  Wadsworth's  division  begin  its  advance,  the  Confederate 
skirmishers  promptly  falling  back  before  it. 

General  Wadsworth  had  informed  me  that  General  Meade's 
headquarters  were  at  the  Lacy  house,  about  a  mile  in  the  rear, 
and  I  rode  toward  the  place.  Before  I  had  crossed  Wilderness 


134         A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Run  I  met  General  Meade,  attended  by  a  few  of  his  staff.  I 
reported  that  Hancock  had  effected  a  junction  with  Getty  at 
the  Brock  and  Plank  roads,  and  that  I  had  communicated 
General  Hancock's  orders  to  General  Wadsworth. 

"And  General  Wadsworth  has  advanced?"  asked  the 
commander. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  saw  his  men  going  forward  before  I  left." 

"  What  troops  had  Hancock  found  in  his  front  ?  " 

"Hill's  corps,  sir." 

"  Did  General  Hancock  order  you  to  return  to  him  ?  " 

"  Not  definitely,  sir." 

"Then,  Berwick,  I  can  give  you  something  to  do.  Go  for- 
ward on  the  left  of  Wadsworth.  It  is  certain  to  my  mind  that 
Hill  and  Ewell  do  not  connect.  Get  into  the  gap  if  you  can, 
and  bring  me  word  what  sort  of  gap  it  is.  We  must  march 
through  there  in  the  morning." 

"  General,  lend  me  one  of  your  orderlies,  please." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"To  bring  back  my  horse." 

"Oh,  let  the  horse  go;  he'll  come  up  all  right  —  if  not,  it 
won't  matter.  Watson,  go  with  Berwick,  and  save  his  horse ; 
be  back  in  fifteen  minutes." 

Watson  and  I  dashed  forward  on  the  road ;  the  sounds  of 
heavy  skirmishing  were  at  our  front  and  left  as  we  reached 
the  woods.  We  went  on,  but  soon  our  progress  became  so 
difficult  that  I  decided  to  take  it  afoot.  I  dismounted  and 
turned  my  horse  over  to  Watson,  who  at  once  started  back. 

My  course  was  southwest  until  I  reached  the  rear  of  our 
troops,  who  were  standing  still ;  their  skirmishers  were  at 
work  in  their  front.  Just  at  my  left  was  a  small  field,  toward 
which  I  moved,  keeping  behind  the  lines.  As  I  reached  the 
middle  of  the  field,  the  troops  began  again  to  advance.  An 
officer  was  riding  about,  waving  his  sword,  and  giving  orders. 
A  few  bullets  were  whistling  over  our  heads.  I  asked  a  man 
who  the  officer  was. 


WITH  MEADE   IN   THE  WILDERNESS         135 

"  Colonel  Stone,"  he  replied. 

I  went  to  the  left ;  the  men  continued  to  advance  across  the 
field.  Now  I  saw  the  officer's  horse  rear  and  plunge,  and  then 
fall,  and  then  I  saw  the  whole  line  break  and  run  scattering 
back  toward  the  woods.1  I  supposed  that  this  stampede  was 
caused  by  the  accident  to  the  commander,  and  that  the  brigade, 
or  regiment,  would  re-form.  But  I  was  now  left  alone  on  the 
flank  of  Warren's  corps,  and  I  knew  not  how  soon  the  Confed- 
erates would  advance  at  this  point,  so  I  went  hastily  on  in 
the  thickets,  diverging  at  first  southward,  until  I  could  tell 
by  the  sound  of  firing  that  I  had  left  the  dangerous  point  far 
enough  behind. 

Now  I  reversed  my  uniform,  and  went  forward  southwest 
with  great  caution,  frequently  stopping  to  look  and  to  listen, 
and  whenever  I  came  to  an  opening  in  the  woods  which  I  could 
not  easily  turn,  I  would  begin  my  progress  across  it  backward, 
hoping  that  if  an  enemy  was  on  the  other  side,  he  would  think 
me  a  Confederate  vedette  retiring. 

After  going  three  hundred  yards,  the  sound  of  heavy  fight- 
ing began  toward  the  south,  and  I  feared  that  Ewell  would 
send  troops  to  Hill's  support,  and  fill  the  gap  before  I  could 
get  through,  and,  as  it  was  pretty  clear  that  at  this  moment 
I  had  in  my  front  no  extension  of  Ewell's  line  or  of  Hill's, 
I  made  my  way  as  rapidly  as  I  could,  but  not  less  carefully, 
until  I  reached  a  slight  elevation  from  which  I  could  see 
toward  the  north  for  a  furlong  or  more.  I  climbed  a  tree  for 
a  better  view.  Nowhere  could  I  see  troops,  but  smoke  was 
rising  from  the  battle,  and  from  burning  woods  in  almost 
every  direction.  It  was  almost  sunset. 

When  I  came  down  from  the  tree  I  started  to  go  to  my 
left,  but  hearing  a  noise  behind  me,  that  is  to  say  in  the 

1  Report  of  Captain  F.  B.  Cowdrey,  Assistant  Adjutant-General,  U.  S.  Army, 
of  operations  of  the  Fourth  Division,  Fifth  Corps,  May  5,  6.  "  In  the  affair 
Colonel  Stone  was  disabled  by  his  horse  falling  on  him,  as  I  am  told,  and  did 
not  again  appear  on  the  field  ;  his  brigade  broke.  .  .  ."  [Eo.] 


136        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

direction  of  the  ground  over  which  I  had  just  passed,  I 
crouched  low  in  the  bushes.  Soon  the  noise  increased  greatly ; 
I  heard  the  rustling  of  leaves  and  the  snapping  of  sticks,  and 
knew  that  men  were  marching  near  my  hiding-place.  The 
sounds  continued  long.  I  knew  by  the  distance  I  had  come 
that  they  were  Confederates.  I  knew  that  a  line  was  march- 
ing by  flank  in  the  woods,  for  men  marching  in  line  of  battle, 
or  as  a  skirmish-line,  would  pass  over  me  or  recede  from  me, 
but  these  men  continued  to  march  and  the  sounds  continued  to 
come.  Had  the  gap  been  closed  ? 

The  sounds  at  last  ceased.  They  had  been  made  by  men 
moving  northward,  by  men  of  Hill's  corps  —  not  Ewell's  — 
and  from  their  nature  I  conjectured  that  skirmishers  were 
between  our  troops  and  my  position ;  if  that  were  the  case 
I  was  now,  in  all  likelihood,  between  Hill's  skirmishers  and 
his  line  of  battle.  Yet  I  was  not  sure.  The  noises  might 
have  come  a  greater  distance  than  I  had  supposed;  they 
might  have  been  made  by  a  line  of  battle.  I  rose  and  walked 
toward  the  line,  endeavouring  to  suppress  all  appearance  of 
nervousness,  for  evident  secrecy  of  intention  might  cause 
suspicion.  I  was  approaching  the  line  in  its  rear ;  if  it  was 
but  thirty  or  forty  yards  from  me  I  should  see  a  skirmish-line, 
with  the  men  kneeling  behind  trees  five  paces  apart,  and  their 
backs  toward  me ;  if  it  was  farther  away  I  should  see  a  thick 
line  of  battle  standing  upright,  and  should  see  it  very  soon. 
Yet,  although  I  must  not  show  secrecy,  I  must,  if  possible, 
see  the  line  without  being  seen,  lest  some  officer  order  me  into 
the  ranks  conformably  with  the  usage  in  regard  to  straggling 
soldiers  in  battle. 

The  thicket  was  quite  dense  and  gloomy,  the  sun  having 
just  set.  The  men  toward  whom  I  was  walking  were  making 
no  sound  that  reached  my  ears,  and  I  inferred  from  the  silence 
that  before  me  was  a  line  of  skirmishers  on  extreme  duty.  To 
the  south  and  southeast  the  rattle  of  firearms  continued. 
At  the  north,  toward  Ewell's  corps,  all  sounds  had  ceased. 


WITH   MEADE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS         137 

Behind  me  was  nothing  —  Lee's  army,  or  a  gap,  or  I  knew 
not  what  —  except  woods.  It  would  be  very  difficult,  I  knew, 
to  get  back  into  our  lines;  everything  would  be  alert;  to  go 
round  the  flank,  either  right  or  left,  would  be  a  hard  and 
perilous  undertaking.  Yet  I  must  try  to  make  a  report  to 
General  Meade.  There  was  a  little  clump  of  pine  bushes  just 
six  paces  in  front. 

"  Here  !     Come  here,  sir  !  "  said  a  voice  from  the  bushes. 

I  walked  on,  trying  my  best  to  seem  unconcerned,  in  which 
effort  I  was  greatly  helped  by  the  knowledge  that  many  sol- 
diers get  separated  from  their  commands  and  fight  with  what- 
ever regiment  comes  handiest. 

Now  I  could  see  a  man's  head  above  the  bushes;  on  the 
man's  head  was  a  black  felt  hat ;  around  the  hat  was  the  gilt 
cord  of  an  officer.  I  walked  to  him. 

"  Where  is  McGowan's  brigade,  Captain  ?  "  I  asked,  seeing 
the  three  bars  on  his  collar. 

"  Here's  part  of  it.  Fall  in  here.  Lieutenant  Brunson, 
take  this  man  into  your  ranks,  and  see  that  he  doesn't  give 
you  the  slip." 

Lieutenant  Brunson  was  a  small,  dark,  sprightly  man,  of 
about  twenty-four  or  twenty-five.  He  simply  pointed  to  a 
space  forward  and  said,  "  There,  sir ! "  This  space  which  I 
was  thus  directed  to  take  proved  to  be  between  two  skirmish- 
ers, who  were  squatted  behind  trees  some  ten  or  twelve  paces 
apart.  I  took  position,  kneeling  like  the  others.  The  men  were 
silent  and  ready.  I  saw  a  sprig  of  pine  in  the  hats  of  the  men 
on  my  right  and  left,  and  wondered  what  was  intended,  but  I 
feared  to  ask,  and  no  man  spoke  to  me.  Was  this  a  detail 
of  skirmishers  from  the  old  brigade  ?  I  did  not  think  so,  for 
the  organization  seemed  too  good  for  a  detail.  These  men 
were  here  for  business.  The  officers  whom  I  had  seen  were 
unknown  to  me;  I  was  sure  that  neither  was  from  the  First 
regiment.  The  green  branches  in  the  men's  hats  meant  an 
organization  —  not  a  detail.  Which  of  the  regiments  was 


138        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

this  ?  I  was  confident  it  was  not  the  First,  and  I  was  equally 
confident  that  the  officer  in  command  was  not  a  field-officer 
of  any  regiment  in  the  brigade,  though  of  coUrse  he  might  be 
serving  as  a  field-officer.  Suddenly  the  truth  came  to  me  — 
came  with  such  overwhelming  force  that  for  a  moment  I  was 
unnerved,  and  yet  was  conscious  of  feeling  a  small  sense  of 
relief  from  the  thought  that  I  was  not  erect,  for  my  head  swam, 
and  I  should  have  reeled  and  perhaps  should  have  fallen  had  I 
been  standing.  These  men  were  McGowan's  sharp-shooters.1 

I  felt  pretty  sure  that  I  was  not  in  Company  A,  for  I  saw 
no  man  whom  I  knew ;  yet  I  could  see  only  four  men  in  all 
here  in  the  thicket.  I  wanted  to  ask  the  man  on  my  right 
some  questions,  but  the  silence  of  the  line  seemed  to  forbid ; 
no  doubt  the  men  were  under  orders  to  make  no  noise. 

All  at  once  the  man  on  my  right  rose  and  faced  to  the  left. 
I  looked  toward  the  north ;  the  man  on  my  left  had  risen  to 
his  feet,  and  had  faced;  I  rose  and  faced  to  the  left.  I  had 
heard  no  order. 

The  man  ahead  of  me  began  to  march ;  I  followed  him 
silently ;  I  could  hear  the  next  man  marching  behind  me. 
After  moving  forty  yards  I  saw  just  in  the  rear  of  the  line 
the  commander  of  the  battalion  moving  also  to  the  left,  and 
saw  a  sergeant.  We  halted  and  faced  the  front.  Vedettes 
were  thrown  forward,  but  only  a  short  distance  ;  the  one  just 
in  front  was  indistinctly  visible  in  the  bushes.  Now  the  men 
placed  their  guns  against  trees  and  began  to  construct  rifle- 
pits,  and  there  was  low  talking  along  the  line.  The  man  at 
my  left  said  that  I  was  to  be  his  partner,  and  I  made  no  ob- 
jection, but  at  once  began  to  assist  him.  We  searched  the 
ground,  rear  and  front,  for  fallen  timber  of  any  size  or  condi- 
tion. Neither  of  us  had  a  bayonet.  At  the  biggest  tree 

1 "  The  battalion  of  sharp-shooters  was  directed  to  form  on  the  left  of 
McGowan's  brigade  —  which  was  the  left  of  Wilcoi's  division  —  and  .  .  . 
cover  as  far  as  possible  the  gap  between  Hill's  left  and  E well's  right." 
—  Dunlop's  Lee's  Sharp-shooters,  page  29.  [ED.] 


WITH   MEADE   IN  THE  WILDERNESS         139 

between  us  we  laid  broken  sticks,  pieces  of  logs,  stones, 
brush,  everything  we  could  get,  flanking  the  tree  on  either 
side  with  a  low  angle ;  we  raked  up  leaves  and  earth  with  our 
hands ;  from  the  inside  of  the  pit  we  scraped  the  soft  earth 
and  threw  it  on  the  heaps.  Meanwhile  my  comrade  proved 
communicative  and  inquisitive. 

"  How'd  you  git  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Come  through  the  woods,"  said  I. 

"  Tell  me  sump'm.     Reckon  you  did." 

"  Where  is  the  First  ?  " 

"  Way  over  yonder  with  the  brigade." 

"  How  far  ?  " 

"  Dunno.  We  was  ordered  here,  and  left  the  brigade  to 
take  keer  of  itself." 

"  What  company  is  this  ?  " 

"B." 

"  Lieutenant  Brunson's  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

I  would  not  risk  asking  who  commanded  the  battalion.  I 
must  get  the  information  without  showing  such  ignorance. 
I  remembered  well  enough  that  at  Mine  Run  Cyrus  Ruff  had 
told  me  that  Captain  Dunlop  of  the  Twelfth  regiment  was  to 
be  the  commander  of  the  new  battalion,  but  I  would  not  risk 
delivering  such  knowledge  —  Ruff's  prophecy  might  have  been 
wrong. 

"  I  was  in  the  battalion  last  year,"  said  I. 

«  That  was  Haskell's,"  said  he. 

"  Yes.     I  was  in  Company  A." 

"Reckin  so;  all  the  men  from  the  First  was  in  Company  A 
then,  and  so  they  is  now." 

"Word  down  the  line  for  Lieutenant  Hasell  that  Captain 
Dunlop  wants  to  see  him  on  the  left !  " 

These  words  were  repeated  by  one  to  another  of  the  men. 
They  gave  me  the  name  of  the  commander  of  the  reorganized 
battalion,  and  the  name  of  the  officer  in  command  of  Company 


140        A   FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

A,  for  I  knew  that  Lieutenant  Hasell  was  of  Company  L,  of 
the  First. 

"  Ingraham  Hasell  commands  Company  A  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  commands  Company  C  ?  " 

"  Watson." 

"Who  is  your  orderly-sergeant  ?" 

"  Dougherty."     The  man  pronounced  it  Dorrity. 

"  You  know  any  men  from  the  First,  in  the  battalion  ?  " 

"  No ;  I'm  from  the  Fourteenth." 

"  I  don't  believe  there  is  a  line  of  battle  behind  us,"  said  I. 

"  Not  unless  it's  jest  come,"  said  he. 

It  was  dark.  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  these  men  before 
I  should  run  upon  some  man  who  might  recognize  me. 

"  How'd  you  git  here  ?  "  asked  my  partner. 

"  Hunting  my  place,"  said  I. 

"  Know  how  the  thing  went  on  the  right  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  could  hear  our  men  cheering." 

a  We're  gwine  to  be  relieved  by  Longstreet." 

"When?" 

"  When  they  git  here,  I  reckon ;  say  they're  way  back  on 
the  road  yit." 

My  companion  began  to  eat.  He  had  wheat  cake  and  boiled 
beef.  In  my  haversack  was  nothing  but  hardtack  and  pork ; 
it  would  not  do  for  me  to  eat,  and  the  thought  showed  me  the 
imprudence  of  having  such  food  —  yet  reflection  told  me  that 
no  great  suspicion  could  attach  to  me  on  that  account,  for  no 
doubt  many  Union  soldiers'  haversacks  had  this  day  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  hungry  Confederates. 

"  Who's  in  the  battalion  from  your  company  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  question  was  hard. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  I.  "The  battalion's  been  made  up 
•while  I  was  at  home.  I've  just  now  got  back." 

"  I  had  a  furlough,  too,  but  I  got  back  a  month  ago." 

"  Reckon  we'll  stay  here  all  night  ?  " 


WITH   MEADE   IN   THE  WILDERNESS         141 

"  Bound  to,  unless  Longstreet  comes  up." 

"  Who  is  on  our  left  ?  " 

"  Dunno.     Nobody,  I  reckon." 

I  wanted  to  leave.  It  would  have  been  easy  enough  to  walk 
back  to  the  rear  through  the  woods,  but  such  a  course  might 
cause  an  outcry  at  least. 

"  My  name's  Powell,"  said  my  partner. 

"  Mine's  Jones." 

"  Like  to  swap  guns  ?  "  asked  my  partner. 

"What's  yours?" 

"Short  Enfield.     Good  gun." 

"  Handier,  but  I  believe  the  long  one  shoots  truer." 

"Duuno.  Wonder  why  they  mark  a  short  Enfield  eleven 
hundred,  and  a  long  un  only  nine  ?  " 

"  I've  often  wondered  at  that  myself,"  said  I. 

"  It's  funny,"  said  he. 

"  I'd  like  to  find  the  brigade,"  said  I. 

"  Ask  Cap'n  Dunlop  to  let  you  go." 

"  Where  can  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  Reckon  he's  back  in  rear  of  the  centre." 

"  Believe  I'll  try  him,"  said  I. 

"  Better  ask  Sergeant  Dorrity  first,"  he  said. 

"All  right,"  said  I,  picking  up  my  gun.  I  walked  toward 
the  right  of  the  company  —  the  position  of  the  orderly-ser- 
geant. Before  I  had  gone  twenty  steps  along  the  rear  of  the 
line,  I  bent  off  to  the  west.  My  partner  would  think  that  the 
sergeant  had  sent  me  to  the  captain  and  that  the  captain  had 
let  me  go,  for  there  was  little  probability  of  an  attack  by  either 
side  in  the  night,  and  I  might  well  be  dismissed  to  seek  my 
command. 

After  going  several  hundred  yards,  I  came  to  an  opening  on 
rising  ground  where  I  could  see  artillery.  I  went  on  and  soon 
saw  an  officer ;  he  spoke  to  me. 

"  You  come  from  the  skirmish-line  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  want  to  find  McGowan's  brigade." 


142       A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"It  is  far  to  the  right,  beyond  the  Plank  road,"  said  he. 
"  What  troops  are  on  the  skirmish-line  out  here  ?  " 

"  McGowan's  sharp-shooters,"  I  replied. 

"  Long  way  from  their  brigade,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir;  we  were  sent  off  here  this  afternoon.  What 
battery  is  this?" 

"  Poague's  battalion." 

I  could  easily  see  that  many  guns  were  here.  I  went  on  for 
a  short  distance  until  I  was  out  of  sight.  I  was  almost  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue  and  nervousness,  and  had  given  up  all 
hope  of  being  able  to  return  to  General  Meade  before  the  mor- 
row. To  get  through  the  Confederate  lines  seemed  impossible, 
and  to  go  around  either  flank  of  Lee's  army  was  beyond  my 
strength;  I  must  have  rest.  So,  when  I  had  reached  the 
woods  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  less  in  rear  of  the  artillery,  I 
hunted  for  a  good  place,  and  after  eating,  quickly  fell  asleep. 


XIV 

WITH   LEE   IN  THE   WILDERNESS 

"There's  courage,  wisdom, 
And  skill  enough,  live  in  one  leader  here, 
As,  flung  into  the  balance,  might  avail 
To  counterpoise  the  odds.  .  .  . "  —  SCOTT. 

AT  daybreak  I  awoke  refreshed.  The  morning  promised  to 
be  fair.  My  purpose  now  was  to  strike  southward  across  the 
Plank  road,  and  work  my  way  around  Hill's  corps,  and  into 
Hancock's.  I  must  keep  far  from  the  front  lest  I  be  ordered 
into  ranks  again,  and  I  must  avoid  the  cavalry  which  I  knew 
swarmed  on  the  flank  of  Lee's  army.  I  ate  my  last  food  and 
started.  The  sun  would  soon  be  up. 

At  first  I  went  directly  south  in  order  to  get  at  once  across 
the  Plank  road,  lest  columns  of  moving  troops  should  block  it. 
I  wondered  whether  Longstreet  had  come  up  in  the  night.  If 
Meade  could  attack  Hill  in  the  absence  of  Longstreet,  the  Con- 
federates could  make  but  feeble  resistance. 

A  mounted  officer  told  me  that  I  was  only  half  a  mile  from 
the  Plank  road,  and  I  hurried  on,  passing  again  around  Poague's 
artillery.  Just  as  the  sun  was  rising  I  heard  at  my  right  great 
volumes  of  musketry  extending  far  to  the  north  and  to  the 
south ;  Meade  was  attacking,  and  from  the  loudening  sounds  I 
knew  that  the  Union  troops  were  constantly  advancing.  I 
got  near  the  Plank  road ;  it  was  full  of  straggling  men ;  far- 
ther down  the  road  to  the  east  I  could  see  a  dense  mass  of 
heads  moving  toward  me.  Hancock's  charge  had  broken  Hill's 
lines.  Men  were  running  up  the  road,  and  into  the  road  from 
the  woods  on  either  side,  swelling  the  surging  crowd.  Should 

143 


144        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  cross  the  road  ?     Could  I  cross  that  road  ?    No ;  I  should  be 
borne  far  to  the  rear. 

Now  the  artillery  in  the  field  opened,  firing  rapidly  all 
twelve  guns  over  the  heads  of  the  retreating  men,  who  began 
at  once  to  show  signs  of  a  disposition  to  halt  and  re-form. 

"Where's  McGowan's?"  "Where's  Lane's?"  "Where's 
Cooke's?" 

Everybody  was  shouting,  but  everybody  was  running.  I 
was  running  along  with  a  party  of  four  men  who  held  to- 
gether. An  officer  rode  by,  shouting  at  the  top  of  a  very 
small  voice  —  "  You  cowards,  rally ! " 

"  Cowards,  HELL  ! "  said  the  tallest,  and  yet  the  youngest  of 
the  four ;  "  if  we  hadn't  run  when  we  did,  every  man  would  be 
a  prisoner  at  this  minute  !  Rally  behind  the  hill  yonder ! 
Dam  that  jackanapes  who  wants  us  to  rally  here  right  in  the 
way  of  our  own  artillery  fire ! " 

The  man  who  spoke  attracted  me.  I  thought  I  had  seen 
him  before.  The  group  had  run  across  the  road  from  the 
woods  at  the  south,  and  were  now  slowly  ascending  the  rise. 
In  almost  every  direction,  men  were  streaming  toward  the 
flanks  of  Poague's  artillery  battalion.  In  the  west,  there  was 
a  dense  column  of  dust  above  the  trees.  The  Union  troops 
were  not  yet  visible,  but  shots  were  coming,  and  shots  were 
being  fired  by  retreating  men  in  our  rear.  Officers  were  rid- 
ing over  the  field  amidst  the  smoke  of  cannon.  "  Hurrah ! " 
shouted  the  man  who  seemed  the  prominent  figure  of  the 
group,  "  Hurrah,  boys !  Yonder's  Traveller !  " 

In  the  very  thick  of  the  hurly-burly,  on  his  iron-gray  horse, 
sat  the  commander  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  Our 
way  led  us  very  near  him. 

"What  troops  are  these  ?  "  I  heard  him  ask. 

"  Part  of  McGowan's ! "  answered  the  tall  man. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  this  gallant  brigade  run  like  a  parcel 
of  geese ! "  cried  the  general,  turning  his  bridle  and  heading 
toward  the  road. 


WITH  LEE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS  145 

"  He'll  take  it  all  back,"  said  the  tall  man. 

Then  I  heard  the  general  speak  again. 

"But  it  is  not  the  fault  of  the  men;  they  will  fight  as 
bravely  as  ever ;  it  is  the  fault  of  the  officers,  and  especially 
the  fault  of  the  file-closers." 

The  general  was  not  yet  out  of  our  sight,  when  down  the 
road  came  two  columns  —  one  on  either  side  —  at  the  double 
quick,  pushing  aside  the  straggling  men,  and  urging  forward 
with  all  the  resolution  of  needed  men  belated;  and  the  cry 
rose  on  all  parts  of  the  little  field,  "  Longstreet !  Longstreet ! " 

And  now  from  the  woods  advanced  a  gray  line  of  battle ; 
slowly  at  first,  opening  their  ranks  for  the  fugitives  to  press 
through,  and  closing  again  as  the  march  continued.  I  had 
paused,  wondering  what  next  I  should  do.  The  line  came  on, 
and  I  slipped  through  it.  At  that  moment  I  saw  General  Lee 
again.  He  had  ridden  to  the  front  of  the  line,  and  had  drawn 
his  sword,  and  was  waving  it  toward  the  east.  At  once  there 
rose  a  great  cry  along  the  line  of  advancing  men. 

"  General  Lee  to  the  rear !     General  Lee  to  the  rear  ! " 

But  he  yet  held  firm.  I  could  not  hear  what  he  said; 
officers  were  around  him,  apparently  endeavouring  to  turn  him 
back.  Then  I  saw  a  man  from  the  ranks  rush  up  to  Traveller 
and  seize  the  bridle,  and  begin  to  lead  him  away ;  .  .  .  and 
the  rebel  cheer  rose  loud  and  strong  as  the  line  went  forward 
at  the  charge. 

Longstreet's  corps  had  spent  part  of  the  night  in  bivouac 
near  Richards's  Shop,  eight  miles  to  the  rear  of  A.  P.  Hill,  on 
the  road  from  Gordonsville ;  half  an  hpur  after  midnight  the 
corps  resumed  its  march ;  the  head  of  its  column  had  reached 
Parker's  Store  on  the  Plank  road  at  daybreak.  At  5  A.M. 
Hancock  had  attacked  directly  in  his  front,  and  with  his 
powerful  corps  of  four  divisions,  strengthened  by  Getty's 
division  of  Sedgwick's  corps,  had  obtained  a  very  brilliant 
success  over  Hill's  two  divisions,  unprepared  for  the  attack, 
and  momentarily  expecting  to  be  relieved.  Heth  and  Wilcox 


146        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

had  been  swept  back  in  disorder  toward  Parker's  Store  where 
Longstreet  was  forming.  Now  the  First  corps  of  the  Confed- 
erate army  advanced  against  Hancock's  troops  victorious  but 
disorganized  by  victory,  and  snatched  from  them  the  complete 
triumph  to  which  they  were  pressing  on. 

Our  group  had  been  reduced  to  three;  possibly  the  other 
men  had  found  their  commands.  I  wanted  to  get  away,  and 
go  round  the  right  into  the  Union  left,  but  the  turmoil  had 
been  so  great  that  my  proper  course  was  not  clear  to  me.  I 
did  not  know  what  was  best  to  do,  and  I  waited. 

"  Say,"  said  the  tall  man,  "  aren't  you  from  the  First  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is ;  I  know  him,"  said  the  other  man. 

"  What !  Who  are  you  ?  "  I  asked ;  "  oh,  yes,  I  know  you 
now." 

It  was  Powell. 

"  You  must  have  a  mighty  poor  memory.  Don't  you  re- 
member helping  me  make  that  pit  last  night?  "  he  asked. 

"  Don't  know  where  the  First  is  ?  "  asked  the  tall  man. 

«  No." 

"  I  was  sure  I'd  seen  you  before.     What  company  ?  " 

"  H." 

"  I'm  in  the  Twelfth.     Chappell's  my  name." 

"  Mine's  Jones  —  Berwick  Jones." 

"  Jones  is  not  much  of  a  name.  I'm  goin'  to  call  you  Ber- 
wick." 

« I'm  willin'." 

"  Let's  go  to  the  front.     Will  you  go,  Powell  ?  " 

Powell  said  he'd  go.  I  argued  that  we  ought  to  go  to  the 
right. 

"  Anywhere,"  said  Chappell,  "  so  we  do  something.  I  can't 
stand  doing  nothing  while  Longstreet's  men  are  hard  at  it. 
Come  on ! " 

The  roar  of  the  battle  was  loud  all  along  the  line  in  front. 
The  artillery  had  hushed.  I  was  very  willing  to  have  com- 
pany for  the  time;  I  would  leave  these  men  at  the  right 


WITH  LEE  IN  THE   WILDERNESS  147 

moment.  Until  the  right  moment  should  come  it  would  be 
best  to  keep  with  them,  for  if  I  should  fail  in  my  purposes, 
and  be  compelled  to  remain  a  time  with  the  Confederates, 
these  companions  of  mine  would  bear  witness  to  my  service 
on  this  day.  Then,  too,  I  knew  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
the  place  of  greatest  danger  now.  Longstreet  was  clearly 
driving  Hancock.  The  fighting  might  soon  be  over. 

So  we  went  to  the  right  and  front,  crossing  the  Plank  road 
and  keeping  in  the  edge  of  the  woods.  Soon  we  saw  at  our 
left  a  brigade  in  the  road ;  the  men  were  moving,  filing  to  the 
right  of  the  road. 

"  Let's  join  that  brigade,"  said  Chappell. 

"  That  you  will,"  said  an  officer  near  us ;  "  get  into  ranks 
quick !  " 

"  What  brigade  is  this  ?  " 

"  Wofford's,"  was  the  reply. 

The  men  were  weary,  evidently.  They  said  they  had 
marched  nearly  all  night,  guarding  wagon-trains  until  half  an 
hour  ago ;  they  were  Longstreet's  men,  of  Kershaw's  division. 

The  roar  in  the  woods  at  the  front  continued.  Straggling 
men  were  being  forced  into  ranks.  Wounded  went  by  limp- 
ing, or  holding  an  arm  up  with  the  other  hand.  We  were  yet 
marching  by  the  flank.  I  hoped  this  brigade  would  get  on  the 
extreme  right.  Bullets  were  tapping  the  trees  overhead  — 
bullets  fired  too  high  by  Hancock's  men.  We  halted  and  faced 
the  front.  I  stuck  by  Osborn  Chappell.  I  knew  not  the 
company  or  the  regiment  —  only  Wofford's  brigade.  A  little 
time  for  alignment ;  then  we  were  ordered  forward. 

"  Yonder's  another  man  of  our  regiment,"  said  Chappell. 

I  supposed  that  many  straggling  men  from  Wilcox's  broken 
ranks  had  joined  this  advance. 

We  went  forward  some  three  hundred  yards  through  the 
forest,  then  halted.  I  saw  that  we  had  extended  the  line  to 
the  right,  and  I  now  determined  to  get  away  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Just  how  I  was  to  do  so  I  did  not  see,  but  I  thought 


148        A  FKIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

that  in  the  excitement  of  a  charge  or  of  a  retreat,  it  would  be 
easy  to  drop  out  and  make  my  way  alone  toward  the  south. 
But  we  did  not  charge,  nor  did  we  retreat.  We  were  faced  to 
the  right,  and  again  we  marched  through  the  woods  until  we 
reached  the  railroad  grade,  and  then  turned  down  it  to  the 
east.  Stretching  behind  us,  after  we  had  advanced  some  hun- 
dreds of  yards,  I  could  see  a  long  column  of  infantry ;  there 
was  a  greater  force  here  than  one  brigade.  We  marched  on 
east. 

"  Chappell,"  said  I,  "  what  are  we  driving  at  ?  " 

"  Flankin'  the  dam  Yankees,"  he  said. 

I  had  thought  so,  myself,  before  I  spoke.  We  were  getting 
around  Hancock's  left.  I  must  make  an  effort  to  get  away  in 
time  to  warn  our  men  before  the  blow  should  be  struck.  But 
a  halt  was  ordered,  and  the  line  faced  north ;  the  file-closers 
were  persistent  and  energetic  in  keeping  the  ranks  in  order ; 
1  was  compelled  to  advance  with  the  line. 

Our  brigade  was  from  Georgia.  The  march  was  a  steady 
advance,  but  it  was  impossible  to  prevent  scattering.  Men 
were  here  and  there  —  they  were  trying  to  preserve  distance 
from  front  to  rear  rather  than  from  right  to  left.  A  file-leader 
would  see  a  good  course  by  which  thickets  could  be  avoided, 
and  twenty  men  would  follow  at  his  heels.  I  wanted  to  fall  to 
the  rear,  but  feared  to  show  such  inclination.  Chappell  was 
urging  forward  in  the  front  and  speaking  words  of  encourage- 
ment to  me  and  Powell.  In  mortal  suspense  the  men  held 
their  guns  at  the  ready.  A  wild  turkey  sprang  up  before 
Chappell.  Some  excited  man  fired  at  it,  and  it  rose  and  flew 
directly  from  us.  In  twenty  seconds  we  heard  two  shots  in 
front.  No  doubt  the  bird  had  run  another  gantlet ;  at  any 
rate,  Chappell  said,  "  There  they  are  !  Come  now,  men ;  be 
steady,  and  rush  all  together ! "  He  had  taken  command  of 
our  part  of  the  line. 

Another  awful  moment  of  suspense  and  then  just  at  our  left, 
the  Confederate  yell  rose  high,  and  the  forest  sounded  like  a 


WITH  LEE   IN   THE   WILDEKNESS  149 

cane-brake  on  fire.  And  now  we  too  were  running  forward, 
and  yelling  like  beasts.  I  yelled  with  the  rest.  I  saw  Chap- 
pel  pause  and  fire ;  as  he  paused  I  passed  him,  and  as  he 
passed  ine,  reloading  as  he  ran,  I  aimed  long,  and  pulled  the 
trigger.  The  woods  roared  as  though  a  storm  was  tearing 
through.  Thus  far  I  had  seen  nothing  in  front  except  trees, 
but  now  I  saw,  running  through  a  small  open  glade,  a  confused 
mass  of  blue  soldiers ;  some  of  them  were  turning  and  firing. 

We  reached  the  spot  where  their  line  had  stood.  We  had 
struck  its  flank,  and  it  had  crumbled. 

"  Where's  Powell  ?  "  cried  Chappell. 

"  I  thought  he  was  here,"  said  I,  stopping  where  he  stood. 
Some  of  the  line  had  gone  on ;  other  men  were  standing  about 
in  the  front,  reloading ;  still  others  were  running  up  from 
the  rear,  having  stopped  to  load. 

"  I  must  find  Powell,"  said  Chappell ;  "  I'm  afraid  he's 
hurt." 

There  were  many  dead  and  wounded  of  the  Union  troops, 
but  I  could  here  see  no  injured  Confederate;  neither  had  I 
seen  a  man  drop,  nor  heard  a  bullet  in  the  charge. 

"  Here,  Berwick !     Come  here  ! "  shouted  Chappell. 

I  went  to  where  he  was  —  some  twenty-five  yards  in  front. 
Powell  was  stretched  on  the  ground,  with  a  ball  through  his 
body.  He  was  yet  alive. 

"  Water,  Chappell ;  for  God's  sake  give  me  water,"  he 
groaned. 

"  Have  you  any,  Berwick  ?  " 

I  had  a  very  little ;  I  put  my  canteen  to  Powell's  mouth ;  he 
swallowed  the  contents  at  a  gulp,  and  was  not  satisfied.  He 
still  called  for  water. 

"  Stay  here,  Berwick.     I'll  run  and  find  some." 

Now  Chappell  was  gone. 

I  fanned  Powell's  face.  I  thought  my  time  to  run  for  it 
had  come,  but  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  leave  Powell 
here  to  die  alone.  Clearly  he  was  dying.  I  called  him  by 


150        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTEKSIGN 

name,  and  he  made  no  sound.  Should  I  go  ?  Chappell  would 
be  back  in  a  moment,  perhaps,  and  my  opportunity  would  be 
lost;  yet  another  would  come,  no  doubt.  But  the  man  was 
dying,  if  not  already  dead.  Why  yield  to  sentiment  at  such  a 
time  when  duty  called  me  elsewhere  ?  I  put  my  ear  to  his 
face ;  not  the  slightest  noise.  I  rose.  I  would  go.  At  that 
moment  Chappell  returned. 

"  He's  gone,"  I  said. 

Chappell  looked  on  his  dead  friend.  Then  he  stooped  and 
thrust  his  hand  into  Powell's  pocket  with  a  look  of  compas- 
sion which  instantly  recalled  to  mind  the  lieutenant  who  had 
held  me  captive  in  The  Wilderness ;  the  look  was  the  same 
look  that  the  lieutenant  had  had  when  he  was  thinking  pity- 
ingly of  my  condition  and  wondering  what  to  do  with  me. 

"  I  must  send  his  things  to  his  mother,"  said  Chappell. 

But  he  found  nothing  except  a  cheap  knife,  and  a  Confeder- 
ate fifty-cent  shinplaster. 

Then  Chappell  put  the  dead  man's  hat  over  his  face,  took 
his  cartridges,  and  broke  halfway  a  small  sapling  near  by. 

"  I  must  mark  the  place,  so  I'll  know  it  when  I  come  back," 
said  he.  "  Come  on,  Berwick  ! " 

And  Chappell  advanced  at  the  run. 

"  Further  to  the  right,  Chappell ! "  I  shouted ;  and  waved  my 
hand.  He  looked  back  and  understood ;  he  deflected  a  little, 
I  following.  We  crossed  the  Plank  road  to  the  north. 

Now  in  our  front  the  world  was  full  of  horrible  sights  and 
sounds.  The  cracking  of  thousands  of  rifles;  the  smoke  of 
burning  woods ;  the  yell  of  the  Confederates ;  the  wounded 
and  the  dead  —  some  of  them  burning.  We  ran  on,  but  failed 
to  find  Wofford's  men.  A  line  of  Confederates  were  advanc- 
ing at  our  right.  We  joined  it  and  went  on  with  the  men,  who 
got  more  and  more  mixed  at  every  step.  Chappell  was  ahead. 
I  saw  my  chance  and  allowed  many  men  to  rush  between  us. 
I  leaned  to  the  right,  and  went  on,  following  the  line,  but 
keeping  more  and  more  to  the  right  until  I  saw  its  flank.  I 


WITH   LEE   IN   THE   WILDERNESS  151 

\et  it  go  on,  and  then  I  ran  with  all  my  might  for  a  hundred 
yards  toward  the  east. 

I  sat  down  exhausted.  At  the  northwest,  still  the  battle 
raged  furiously.  I  judged  that  a  fresh  body  of  Union  troops 
were  standing  up  against  Longstreet's  men.  The  noise  did  not 
go  from  me  or  get  nearer.  The  place  where  I  was  hidden  was 
very  peaceful.  I  wanted  to  stay.  But  I  must  not  stay ;  I 
must  rise  and  go.  With  pain  I  got  to  my  feet  and  went  on 
east,  looking  for  Union  men.  I  came  near  the  Brock  road 
almost  at  the  point  where  I  had  ridden  out  of  it  on  the  pre- 
ceding day  when  I  was  hunting  for  Warren's  left.  The  breast- 
works were  burning;  up  the  road  the  smoke  was  thick  —  I 
knew  not  whether  from  battle  or  from  burning  woods.  I 
rested  again,  and  now  thought  it  was  time  to  change  my 
clothing,  but  was  too  weary  to  do  more  than  reverse  the  coat. 
I  kept  on,  northeast;  and  at  length  I  saw  men  through  the 
woods  —  a  skirmish-line. 

I  shouted  to  them,  and  they  ordered  me  to  come  in.  They 
belonged  to  the  brigade  of  Colonel  Miles  of  the  Second  corps.1 
I  was  taken  to  the  colonel,  and  with  but  little  trouble  con- 
vinced him  that  I  was  a  Union  man. 

1  Now  Major-General  Miles  —  Commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  the 
United  States.  [ED.] 


XV 

THE   HORSESHOE  SALIENT 

"  Serv.  —  Where  dwellest  thou  ? 
Cor.  —  Under  the  canopy."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

GENERAL  MEADE  gave  me  a  good  rest.  There  was  little 
fighting  for  two  or  three  days.  I  saw  Dr.  Khayine  again. 
He  told  me  that  the  hospital  was  being  established  at  Fred- 
ericksburg,  and  that  Lydia  would  soon  be  there. 

On  the  8th,  I  saw  Sheridan  at  Meade's  headquarters.  Gen- 
eral Grant  was  present  also.  The  three  kept  apart  from  others. 
We  were  now  near  Spottsylvania. 

On  that  night  I  learned  that  the  cavalry  corps  would  cut 
loose  from  the  army  and  march  toward  Richmond. 

At  eleven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  9th,  General  Meade 
sent  for  me. 

"  I  have  some  hard  work  for  you,  Berwick,"  he  said,  when  I 
stood  before  him. 

"  Sorry  to  hear  it,  General." 

"  Kather  go  back  into  the  ranks  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  but  I  take  my  life  in  my  hands  every  time  I  go 
out." 

"  So  do  all  of  us.  But  I  don't  think  they  can  prove  any- 
thing against  you  even  if  they  catch  you,  after  you  have  served 
them  so  well  in  The  Wilderness.  Don't  do  that  again,  Ber- 
wick. If  you  hadn't  helped  Longstreet  the  other  day,  we 
should  have  driven  Hill  to  Mine  Run." 

"  It's  no  laughing  matter  with  me,  General.  I  hate  even  to 
pop  a  cap  at  a  Yankee." 

162 


THE   HORSESHOE   SALIENT  153 

"  Well ;  I  advise  you  to  drop  that  double-barrelled  uniform, 
and  wear  plain  rebel  clothing.  Then  you  will  be  as  safe  as 
General  Grant  is." 

"  Not  from  our  men,"  I  said. 

"  Strange  that  Longstreet  was  shot,"  said  he. 

It  was  strange.  I  think  the  circumstance  had  much  influ- 
ence in  raising  the  spirit  of  the  Union  soldiers.  It  was  talked 
of  by  everybody.  On  the  6th,  just  after  Wofford's  and  the 
other  brigades  had  rolled  up  Hancock's  left,  Longstreet  had 
ridden  down  the  railroad  grade,  and  was  getting  his  lines 
ready  to  move  on,  before  the  routed  Federals  could  recover. 
A  charge  of  his  whole  corps  at  this  time  might  have  proved 
disastrous  to  the  Union  cause ;  God  willed  it  otherwise.  There, 
on  the  railroad,  Longstreet  fell  severely  wounded  by  his  own 
men,  and  delay  followed,  so  that  the  later  attack  found  Meade 
ready,  and  was  repulsed.  These  Wilderness  woods  —  while 
securing  great  advantage  to  the  Southern  troops  —  had  twice 
saved  the  Union  army.  Jackson  fell  on  the  2d  of  May,  1863, 
shot  by  his  own  men ;  Longstreet  fell  on  the  6th  of  May,  1864, 
under  very  similar  conditions ;  they  fell  here  in  this  forest  at 
places  not  five  miles  apart.  It  seems  as  though  God  intended 
that  the  Union  should  be  saved.  Dr.  Khayme  was  right 
when  he  had  said  that  a  wholesome  reunion  of  the  sections 
could  not  be,  unless  the  South  were  completely  crushed  — 
that  her  honour  must  be  preserved,  and  that  her  military 
power  must  be  subdued  only  by  irresistible  force,  so  that  she 
could  retain  self-respect  and  the  admiration  of  an  enemy  who, 
in  sober  truth,  must  ascribe  success  to  a  power  mightier  than 
armies.  What  the  result  would  have  been  had  not  Jackson 
fallen  no  man  can  know;  what  it  would  have  been  had  not 
Longstreet  fallen  no  man  can  know,  yet  it  is  easy  to  believe 
that  the  destruction  of  Hooker's  army  at  Chancellorsville 
might  have  caused  the  country  to  remain  divided  forever,  and 
that  a  great  disaster  in  The  Wilderness  might  have  convinced 
the  North  that  Lee  was  always  invincible.  But  for  God,  who 


154        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

chooses  His  own  instruments,  the  South  would  have  over- 
thrown the  Union;  He  chose  the  South  itself  to  defeat  the 
purposes  of  the  South. 

General  Meade  showed  me  a  sketch  of  the  country,  with  the 
Confederate  intrenchments  laid  down. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  you  see  this  salient.  It  is  opposite  the 
Sixth  corps:  I  want  you  to  go  down  there  and  go  along  our 
skirmish-line,  and  nearer,  if  possible,  and  see  what  you  can  see 
from  our  side." 

"  All  right,  General,"  I  responded  very  cheerfully,  "  I  can 
start  at  once." 

"  Yes,  but  hold  on.  When  you  have  seen  it  from  our  side,  I 
want  you  to  see  it  from  their  side." 

No  doubt  my  countenance  fell ;  but  I  answered  that  I  should 
obey  orders. 

"  You  may  go  now,"  said  the  general ;  "  try  to  get  back  by 
two  or  three  o'clock,  for  I  shall  be  here  then,  and  will  show  you 
what  I  want  further." 

The  first  work  was  not  very  difficult.  I  rode  down  to  the 
skirmishers  of  the  Sixth  corps.  There  I  learned  that  General 
Sedgwick  had  been  killed  but  a  short  time  before  by  a  sharp- 
shooter. General  Wright  had  succeeded  to  the  command  of 
the  corps,  and  General  Russell  now  commanded  Wright's 
division,  along  whose  picket-line  I  made  my  way. 

The  enemy  could  be  seen  busily  intrenching  upon  high  open 
ground  some  hundreds  of  yards  in  front  of  General  Eustis's 
men.  The  line  here  ran  northeast.  I  followed  on;  opposite 
the  left  of  Wheaton's  brigade  I  saw  that  the  Confederate  lines 
trended  toward  the  east  and  kept  this  course  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  and  then  turned  southwest.  Our  left  was  Grant's  bri- 
gade. The  men  of  Grant's  skirmishers  —  the  Fourth  Vermont, 
if  I  remember  aright  —  could  not  tell  me  whether  any  Union 
troops  were  farther  on  to  the  south.  When  I  found  the  end  of 
our  line,  the  enemy  could  not  be  seen,  and  I  supposed  it  was 
because  our  line  had  not  curved  in  such  a  degree  as  to  face  the 


THE   HORSESHOE   SALIENT  155 

southeast  side  of  the  salient.  I  went  on  forward  then,  and 
soon  came  again  within  sight  of  the  intrenchments,  at  which 
men  were  yet  at  work. 

I  returned  to  General  Meade,  and  reported  that  there  was 
an  immense  salient  on  the  Confederate  lines,  but  that  it  was 
perhaps  too  early  now  to  decide  that  the  point  was  to  be  per- 
manently held,  for  the  intrenchments  were  not  yet  completed. 

"  You  must  try  to  get  into  that  salient,  Berwick." 

"  We  have  no  troops  at  all  on  the  left  of  the  Vermont  brigade, 
General  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  General  Burnside  will  form  there  to-morrow. 
Are  you  thinking  of  trying  to  enter  that  front  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Hill's  corps  is  there  now.  Better  try  our  right,  I  think. 
If  you  get  into  your  old  crowd,  you  may  be  recognized." 

"  But  the  cavalry,  General.  If  I  try  the  right,  won't  I  find 
the  cavalry  too  thick  ?  " 

"  Stuart's  whole  business  will  be  drawn  away  toward  Rich- 
mond. Sheridan  started  this  morning." 

"  All  of  the  cavalry  corps  ?  " 

"  We  have  three  regiments  scattered  along  from  Chancellors- 
ville  east  and  west." 

"  Which  three,  General  ?  " 

"  Fifth  New  York,  Third  New  Jersey,  and  Second  Ohio." 

"According  to  this  sketch,  General,  the  Confederate  left 
rests  on  the  Po." 

"  Yes,  just  as  our  right  does." 

"_When  must  I  report,  General  ?  " 

"  Do  your  work  well ;  I  cannot  limit  you,  yet  lose  no  time, 
and  get  back  quickly  when  your  work  is  done." 

My  preparations  and  plans  were  soon  made.  Two  mounted 
men  were  to  accompany  me.  The  point  I  was  to  examine  was 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  from  our  pickets,  and  was  to  be 
reached  by  a  detour  of  twenty  miles  or  more,  and  contingencies 
might  add  enormously  to  this  distance.  The  examination  of 


156        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  salient  would  require  but  a  few  hours  perhaps,  but  the 
going  and  returning  would  require  days.  General  Meade  had 
told  me  that  A.  P.  Hill's  corps  had  just  formed  on  the  right  of 
the  Spottsylvania  lines  ;  it  had  marched  from  The  Wilderness 
no  doubt  by  Parker's  Store,  thence  south  to  the  Catharpin  road, 
and  by  that  road  eastward  into  position  on  Lee's  right.  How- 
ever that  might  be  in  regard  to  Hill,  there  must  yet  be  many 
wounded  and  many  stragglers,  as  well  as  much  of  the  materiel 
of  war  left  by  the  Confederates  all  along  these  roads  from  their 
present  lines  back  to  The  Wilderness.  I  would  go  to  The 
Wilderness,  and  become  a  rebel  straggler  trying  to  catch  up 
with  his  command. 

The  three  of  us  took  the  road  to  Todd's  Tavern  —  Long,  John 
Kingsbury,  and  I.  It  was  about  four  o'clock,  and  we  rode  rap- 
idly, reaching  Todd's  before  six.  Stragglers  and  parties  of  our 
men  were  met  all  along  the  road  —  sometimes  even  regiments. 
Past  Todd's  we  went,  still  on  the  Brock  road.  The  ground 
was  familiar  here ;  I  had  been  on  it  for  Hancock.  At  eight 
o'clock  we  were  almost  at  the  Orange  Plank  road.  I  feared 
that  the  junction  was  held  by  the  Confederates,  so  I  turned  my 
clothing  and  walked  forward  alone,  but  at  the  intersection 
there  was  no  one,  and  I  went  back  to  the  two  men ;  then  we 
rode  to  the  intersection,  and  turned  west  toward  Parker's 
Store.  Here  was  the  ground  where  Hill  and  Longstreet  had 
fought  on  the  5th  and  6th ;  many  dead  yet  lay  unburied. 

I  wondered  why  there  had  been  no  Confederate  post  at  the 
cross-roads  behind  me.  Probably  the  point  was  yet  debatable 
ground ;  the  enemy's  pickets  would  be  found  at  their  old  line 
of  battle  or  in  the  rear  of  it,  at  Parker's. 

When  we  had  gone  a  few  hundred  yards  up  the  road,  I  dis- 
mounted, and  crept  forward  until  I  reached  the  old  breast- 
works of  the  Confederates.  They  were  entirely  abandoned, 
but  farther  up  I  could  see  the  light  of  a  fire,  and  I  supposed 
that  very  near  me,  between  me  and  the  fire,  there  was  a  picket, 
if  not  a  line  of  pickets.  I  now  determined  to  use  the  railroad 


THE   HORSESHOE   SALIENT  157 

grade  at  my  left  as  my  line  of  approach.  I  returned  to  the 
men,  and  we  went  back  to  the  Brock  road,  and  then  south 
until  we  struck  the  embankment,  and  there  turned  west  again. 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock ;  the  moon  had  just  gone  down ; 
on  the  grade  was  a  good  pathway.  Again  we  reached  the  Con- 
federate intrenchments.  I  believed  that  by  following  the  rail- 
road I  could  get  into  the  road  leading  south  from  Parker's 
Store  without  running  any  risk  at  that  place.  Where  it  crosses 
the  Brock  road  the  railroad  grade  is  perhaps  three  miles  from 
the  Plank  road  ;  where  it  crosses  the  Parker's  Store  road,  it  is 
hardly  a  mile  from  the  Plank  road.  The  distance  from  the 
Brock  road  to  the  Parker's  Store  road,  along  the  grading,  is 
about  four  miles.  Shortly  after  passing  the  Confederate 
intrenchments  I  saw,  running  south,  an  opening  through  the 
woods  which  I  had  not  seen  there  when  I  had  served  under 
Wofford  on  the  6th.  I  dismounted  and  went  into  the  opening. 
It  was  a  narrow  road,  full  yet  of  stumps  —  a  road  cut  by  the 
Confederates  for  some  purpose ;  the  ruts  were  deep  and  fresh. 
I  supposed  that  the  Confederates  had  made  it  for  transferring 
artillery  from  one  point  to  another  on  the  7th.1 

For  about  three  miles  we  rode  on  carefully  in  single  file, 
alternately  passing  one  another,  and  each  alternately  becoming 
the  advance,  the  centre,  and  the  rear,  so  that  one  man  was  con- 
tinually on  watch  in  every  direction,  and  one  always  advanc- 
ing. After  an  hour's  ride  in  this  manner  we  came  to  a  great 
washout  on  the  railroad  grade,  where  a  small  stream  ran 
across  it ;  here  I  dismounted  and  went  forward  afoot,  the  men 
following  me  at  a  very  short  distance.  In  somewhat  less  than 
a  mile  I  found  myself  near  a  cross-road,  which  I  supposed  the 
Parker's  Store  road,  as  I  call  it;  that  is,  the  road  running 
southward  from  Parker's  to  the  Catharpiu  road.  Here  I 

1  This  road  was  cut  in  order  to  march  Lee's  infantry  into  the  Catharpin  road 
south,  and  thence  to  Spottsylvania  Court-House.  If  Mr.  Berwick  had  fol- 
lowed this  new  road,  he  would  have  gone  back  into  Hancock's  lines  on  the  Po. 
[ED.] 


258       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

halted  the  men,  and  went  into  the  road  alone,  and  turned  to 
my  right  in  order  to  be  sure,  before  I  followed  it  south,  that  I 
was  not  taking  a  wrong  road.  It  was  not  long  until  I  was  con- 
vinced ;  I  saw  ground  which  I  had  seen  before.  I  returned  to 
the  men,  and  rode  with  them  back  to  the  stream  which  we  had 
just  crossed.  On  the  south  of  the  railroad  we  selected  a  close 
thicket,  where  I  directed  the  men  to  await  my  return.  Long 
and  John  Kingsbury  were  to  maintain  strict  watch  from  their 
hiding-place ;  both  should  not  sleep  at  once,  and  they  were  to 
remain  there  three  days  in  case  I  should  not  return  before  the 
expiration  of  that  time.  I  left  my  horse  in  their  charge,  took 
two  days'  food,  and  set  out,  armed  and  equipped  as  a  Confed- 
erate infantryman.  When  I  reached  the  road  again,  I  turned 
south,  and  tramped  for  a  mile  or  more ;  then  I  lay  down  in  the 
bushes  to  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep ;  I  did  not  want  to  run 
upon  Confederate  stragglers  or  on  a  body  of  the  troops  in  the 
night,  for  I  might  be  subjected  to  serious  questioning. 

At  daylight  I  again  took  up  my  tramp,  and  it  was  not  long 
until  I  saw,  ahead  of  me  in  the  road,  three  wagons  standing 
still.  I  kept  on,  and  when  I  came  up  with  them  I  saw  the  fire 
of  some  teamsters  by  the  roadside.  I  halted. 

"  Right,  road  to  Spottsylvania  Court-House  ?  "  I  shouted. 

"  Turn  to  your  left  when  you  strike  the  big  road !  " 

"  How  far  from  here  ?  " 

"  Four  miles,  I  reckon.     You'll  see  plenty  more  a-goin'." 

I  crossed  two  streams,  where  I  found  more  wagons,  and  went 
on  and  came  to  the  big  road.  It  was  running  east  and  west ; 
I  went  east.  Somewhere,  about  four  or  five  miles  ahead,  I 
could  hear  the  firing  of  cannon  in  quick  succession.  I  knew 
that  a  battle  was  going  on ;  this  was  no  mere  siege  firing.  In 
the  road,  here  and  there,  were  men  going  east  and  coming  west ; 
single  soldiers  mainly,  bent  on  this  and  that  affair,  or  straggling. 
I  asked  those  I  met  where  McGowan's  brigade  was.  None 
could  tell  me,  but  some  of  them  knew  that  Hill's  corps  — now 
under  Early,  they  said,  because  General  Hill  was  sick  —  held 


159 

the  right  of  the  line.  After  I  had  learned  this  I  began  to  ask 
where  Ewell  was,  and  where  Longstreet's  corps  was,  and  I 
found  that  I  was  now  near  the  First  corps,  which  was  holding 
the  left  of  the  Confederate  lines,  and  that  General  Anderson 
was  in  command  in  consequence  of  Longstreet's  wound.  After 
a  little  further  advance,  I  found  the  road  blocked  with  wagons. 
A  teamster  told  me  that  there  was  a  fight  going  on  ahead ;  that 
the  Yankees  had  crossed  the  Po  in  the  night,  on  the  Confed- 
erate left,  and  had  gained  possession  of  the  road  to  the  bridge. 
It  was  now  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  bridge  was  about 
three  miles  away.  I  thought  it  prudent  to  await  developments. 

"  Goin'  to  stay  here  all  day,  you  reckon  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Dunno,"  replied  the  teamster ;  "  got  to  stay  here  tell  them 
fellers  git  through." 

"  Wonder  who  it  is." 

«  Heth." l 

"  Whole  division  ?  " 

"  I  dV  know ;  don't  you  hear  'em  holler  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  tell  Heth's  men  by  their  holler  ?  " 

"  Can't ;  but  I  know  they  is  Heth,  all  the  same." 

"  Know  where  Wilcox  is  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  How  do  you  know  Heth  so  well,  then  ?  " 

"  Be'n  told.     You  belong  to  Wilcox  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Go  on  and  jine  Heth  ;  they  kin  tell  you." 

"  Much  obliged,  but  I  think  too  much  of  myself." 

The  teamster  laughed.  "I  'xpect  we'll  turn  back  and  try 
another  road,"  said  he. 

"  What  you  loaded  with  ?  " 

"  Guns." 

"  Guns  ?     What  sort  o'  guns  ?  " 

"  All  sorts  o'  guns ;  picked  up  back  yonder  wher'  the  big 
fight  was  last  week." 

1  Pronounced  Heath. 


160       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Where  you  takin'  'em  to  ?  " 

"  Dam  'f  I  know ;  I'm  a  f ollerin'  that  waggin ;  that's  all  I 
got  to  do.  Say,  here  they  come  back,  by  George ! " 

A  column  of  infantry  was  coming  west,  marching  on  both 
sides  of  the  road  —  the  middle  of  it  having  been  taken  up  by 
the  wagon-train. 

I  asked  no  permission  of  the  teamster,  but  got  at  once  into 
his  wagon  from  the  rear ;  I  did  not  wish  to  be  ordered  into  the 
ranks  of  any  of  Heth's  regiments.  The  wagon  had  a  canvas 
top  through  which  I  made  a  small  hole  and  watched  the  men 
go  by.  It  was  not  a  long  column,  yet  I  counted  five  battle- 
flags.  What  brigade  it  was  I  could  not  tell.  The  men  were 
marching  rapidly,  and  but  few  of  them  spoke;  they  went  by 
me  with  the  old  familiar  swing  of  Jackson's  foot  cavalry,  and 
showed  every  sign  of  being  bent  on  mischief ;  yet  this  move- 
ment was  neither  a  retreat  nor  an  advance ;  I  did  not  know 
what  it  meant.1 

After  the  brigade  had  disappeared  by  filing  to  the  right  some 
distance  at  the  west,  I  crawled  out  of  the  wagon. 

"  I  owe  you  one  for  that,"  said  I  to  the  teamster. 

"  Why  n't  you  jine  'em  ?  "  he  asked,  grinning. 

"  I  think  a  heap  o'  Mahs  Robert,"  *  said  I ;  "  but  them  folks 
that  went  by  just  now  can  git  along  mighty  well  without  me. 
What  you  reckon  they're  up  to  ?  " 

"  You'll  hear  from  'em  direckly,  I  'xpect." 

Now  the  wagons  ahead  of  us  were  in  commotion.  The  team- 
ster nearest  us  shouted  to  my  friend  to  turn  round  and  drive 
back.  The  turning  was  attended  with  some  difficulty,  the  road 
at  this  point  being  very  steep ;  I  helped  to  pull  and  back  the 
mules  until  we  were  headed  west,  the  teamster  shouting  all  the 
while  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  cursing  the  mules  from  habit,  and 

1  Hancock  had  thrown  troops  to  the  south  side  of  the  Po  River  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  9th.    While  withdrawing  to  the  north  side,  these  troops  were 
attacked  by  Heth's  division  on  the  10th.    [Eo.] 

2  General  Lee.    [Ei>.] 


THE   HORSESHOE   SALIENT  161 

flinging  oaths  at  me  for  good  measure.  He  made  no  objection 
to  my  getting  into  the  wagon,  and  we  started  down  the  road  at 
as  fast  a  trot  as  the  lean  mules  could  be  urged  to  make. 

Meanwhile,  on  our  right  was  heard  the  crackle  of  skirmish- 
ing ;  artillery  soon  joined  in  and  roared  in  the  west  and  in  the 
north.  What  was  going  on  nobody  seemed  to  know ;  the  few 
straggling  men  whom  I  had  seen  on  the  road  an  hour  before 
had  all  vanished ;  only  the  wagons  were  seen,  and  it  was  clear 
that  they  were  being  moved  to  a  place  of  safety,  or  were  going 
by  a  more  circuitous  route  to  Spottsylvania.  I  held  my  place 
in  the  wagon,  having  crawled  up  to  the  front  so  that  I  could 
see  ahead  and  talk  to  the  teamster,  who  was  a-straddle  the 
rear  mule  at  the  left,  and  was  driving  his  team  with  one  line 
attached  to  the  lead  mule.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  came 
to  a  narrow  road  leading  south.  A  mounted  man  here  passed 
us  from  the  rear  and  went  down  the  narrow  road,  shouting  to 
the  teamster  to  follow.  The  noise  of  battle  was  now  behind 
us,  and  was  dying  away  through  the  distance. 

I  went  to  sleep;  when  I  awoke  the  wagon  was  crossing  a 
bridge.  I  saw  many  troops,  of  all  arms  of  the  service,  and 
many  scattered  camps,  and  wagons  parked  in  the  fields.  The 
road  was  running  north.  I  judged  that  we  had  crossed  the  Po, 
and  that  we  were  now  within  the  stronghold  of  the  Confeder- 
ate army.  The  sound  of  cannon  was  heard  in  many  directions, 
particularly  toward  the  north. 

The  wagons  came  to  a  stand.  I  got  out ;  my  teamster  was  busy 
with  his  mules ;  I  helped  him  unhitch,  and  bade  him  good-by. 

I  went  north,  inquiring  for  McGowan's  brigade,  or  for 
Wilcox's  division,  or  for  Hill's  corps,  but  always  bent  on  going 
to  the  works  at  the  salient  which  I  knew  to  be  at  Hill's  left. 
I  could  talk  about  my  old  regiment,  and  about  all  the  organiza- 
tion which  included  it,  and  could  prove  to  anybody  of  a  differ- 
ent command  that  I  was  a  private  in  Company  H,  but  Company 
H  and  the  First  regiment  I  would  leave  far  to  my  right 
When  I  reached  the  intrenchments  it  was  after  sunset. 


162        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"Where  is  Hill's  corps?"  I  asked  of  an  infantry  officer. 
"  On  the  right.     Why  are  you  not  with  your  command  ?  " 
"  Just  getting  up  from  the  rear,  sir.     How  far  to  the  right  ?  " 
"  Around  the  lines   it   must   be  two  miles,  nearly ;   across 
here,"  pointing  almost  south,  "  not  more  than  half  a  mile." 

From  this  reply  I  judged  that  I  had  reached  the  west  flank 
of  the  salient.  I  started  then  south,  but  as  soon  as  I  was  out 
of  the  officer's  sight  I  turned  and  went  along  the  lines.  The 
troops  had  been  in  battle  that  day.  In  fact  I  had  heard  loud 
musketry  to  my  right  as  I  was  approaching  the  intrenchments. 
Dead  and  wounded  lay  about  in  the  woods,  men  of  both  armies. 
A  Union  column  had  stormed  the  works  and  carried  them,  but 
had  afterward  been  driven  out.  There  were  straggling  Con- 
federates along  the  lines,  and  in  the  woods  at  the  rear ;  I  was 
one  of  many,  and  had  no  hesitation  in  making  inquiries. 

The  first  command  I  struck  was  Ramseur's —  a  North 
Carolina  brigade.  I  went  on  up  the  line  toward  the  right,  and 
next  found  Daniel's  —  also  a  North  Carolina  brigade.  Then 
came  Doles's  Georgia  brigade;  it  had  lost  heavily  in  the  fight 
which  had  just  ended.  Here,  too,  I  found  many  of  Gordon's 
troops  intermixed  with  Doles's.  A  man  told  me  that  Gordon 
had  been  on  a  second  line  at  the  rear  of  the  outer  works,  and 
had  come  up  to  help  drive  out  the  Yankees.  Farther  to  the 
right  I  found  the  old  Stonewall  brigade,  named  for  its  original 
commander,  or,  as  he  was  wont  to  insist,  the  brigade  to  which 
he  owed  the  name  by  which  he  was  almost  universally  known 
in  print  —  his  men,  however,  always  spoke  of  him  not  as  Stone- 
wall, but  as  Uncle  Jack.  The  Virginians  occupied  the  apex 
of  the  salient,  which  was  strengthened  with  many  guns  — 
Nelson's  and  Page's  artillery  battalions,  seven  batteries.  The 
apex  of  the  salient  was  easy  to  distinguish ;  the  line  suddenly 
trended,  at  an  angle  of  about  eighty  degrees,  toward  the  south- 
west. I  went  on.  Here  there  had  been  no  infantry  fighting, 
but  I  learned  that  a  column  —  "  dead  oodles  of  'em,"  to  use  my 
informant's  language  —  of  blue  infantry  had  attempted  to 


THE   HORSESHOE   SALIENT  163 

advance  about  five  o'clock,  and  had  broken  under  the  fire  of 
the  batteries.  The  next  command  was  Hays's  —  Louisiana 
men  —  a  very  small  brigade.  After  Hays's  came  Stafford's,  also 
from  Louisiana ;  then  Jones's  Virginia  brigade,  and  on  Jones's 
right  Steuart's  regiments  of  tar-heels  and  Virginians. 

I  had  gone  through  the  lines  of  the  salient,  and  must  now 
think  of  returning.  In  the  Twenty-seventh  Virginia  regiment, 
I  talked  with  a  man  who  told  me  that  Lane's  brigade  connected 
on  the  right ;  I  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  Lane's  brigade,  or 
any  other  brigade  in  my  old  division.  What  I  wanted  now 
was  to  get  back  to  General  Meade. 

The  night  was  dark,  but  not  for  lack  of  a  moon ;  the  clouds 
betokened  rain.  I  had  far  to  go,  but  as  yet  I  was  not  weary ; 
my  ride  in  the  wagon  had  been  great  help.  In  going  along  the 
lines  I  had  tried  to  impress  on  my  mind  the  character  of  the 
intrenchments,  and  the  strength  of  the  forces,  particularly 
the  artillery.  My  report  would  be  valuable.  I  believed  that 
the  salient  could  be  taken,  with  the  most  of  the  troops  within 
it,  by  a  simultaneous  attack  on  the  east  and  west  faces.  The 
apex  itself  was  too  strong  to  be  successfully  assaulted,  unless, 
by  ingenuity,  a  surprise  could  be  effected. 

To  get  out  of  these  lines  would  be  more  difficult  than  had 
been  my  getting  in.  I  should  be  questioned,  perhaps,  before  I 
reached  the  river ;  and  at  the  river,  especially  at  the  bridge,  I 
should  be  stopped.  My  purpose  was  to  cross  the  river  above 
the  bridge,  not  the  lower  bridge  on  the  Louisa  Court-House 
road  over  which  I  had  ridden  in  the  wagon,  but  the  Block- 
house bridge,  as  it  was  called,  some  two  miles  higher  up  the 
stream,  the  bridge  for  which  the  wagons  had  been  making 
when  stopped  in  consequence  of  Heth's  battle.  I  had  learned 
in  the  lines  that  this  battle  had  resulted  in  the  withdrawal  of 
the  Union  forces  on  that  wing  from  the  south  bank  of  the  Po, 
and  I  judged  that  the  Confederates  now  felt  secure  on  that 
part  of  the  line,  and  that  I  could  make  my  way  along,  or  near, 
the  Shady  Grove,  or  Catharpin,  road,  and  by  hard  walking 


164       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

could  reach  Long  and  Kingsbury  by  daybreak.  My  route  at 
first,  therefore,  led  me  in  rear  of  the  breastworks  of  Long- 
street's  corps.  But  I  soon  struck  a  road  running  southwest, 
and  I  left  the  lines  and  walked  boldly  down  the  road.  No 
man  had  yet  accosted  me.  On  this  road  small  bodies  of  troops 
were  moving;  some  coming,  others  going.  Ambulances  and 
wagons  blocked  the  road  in  places,  and  I  could  hear  groans  of 
wounded  men. 

A  man  behind  me  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Whar  you  gwine,  Bud  ?  " 

"To  Heth's  division,"  I  answered,  by  inspiration. 

"  Me  too,  Pete.    What  brigade  ?  " 

"Don't  belong  to  any  brigade  in  that  division.  Goin'  on 
business  for  my  general." 

"What  about,  Bud?" 

"Mustn't  tell." 

"  Bet  you  don't  know,  yourself." 

"  Maybe  you're  right.     What  brigade  is  yours  ?  " 

"  Davis's." 

"  You're  from  Mississippi,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  Bud,  I  belong  to  the  bloody  Fifty-fifth  No'th  Ca'lina." 

"What!  I  didn't  know  there  were  any  tar-heels  in  that 
brigade." 

"  None  but  our'n.     All  Mississip'  excusin'  the  Fifty-fifth." 

"I  remember  your  brigade.  General  Davis  commanded 
Heth's  division  after  Gettysburg  ?  " 

"You're  right,  Bud." 

"  And  General  Davis  is  Jeff  Davis's  nephew  ?  " 

"  You're  right  agin.     Ain't  caught  you  in  a  lie  yit." 

"  But  your  regiment  was  not  with  us  before  the  Gettysburg 
campaign." 

"  How  the  hell  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Where  were  you  before  ?  " 

"  We  jined  Longstreet  at  Suffolk,  and  come  on  to  you  uns 
after  you  fit  the  Chancellor's  fight.  Say,  you  a  private  ?  " 


THE   HORSESHOE   SALIENT  165 

«  Yes." 

"  Well,  sir  I  You  shorely  do  beat  my  times  for  rememberin'. 
You  know  Joe  Davis  ?  " 

"  No ;  not  at  all." 

"  My  name's  Saddler ;  what's  your'n  ?  n 

"  Jones." 

"  What  state  ?  " 

"  South  Carolina." 

"  Thought  so.     You  got  the  lingo  o'  them  sea-island  folks." 

"  You  know  where  Heth's  division  is  ?  " 

"  I  know  whar  it  ought  to  be  ef  it  hain't  moved." 

"  When  did  you  leave  it  ?  " 

"  'Bout  two  o'clock." 

"  But  it's  been  fighting  since  then." 

"  I  know  that  better'n  you  —  dam  'f  I  don't ;  that's  one  thing 
I  know  better'n  you ;  dam  'f  it  ain't.  I  lef '  'em  while  they 
was  fightin'." 

"  Sent  back  on  an  errand  ?  " 

"  You're  right,  Bud  —  sent  back  on  a  errand." 

"Well,  Saddler,  I  tell  you  what  —  I'm  mighty  glad  to  strike 
up  with  you.  How  far  is  it  yet,  you  think  ?  " 

"  Must  be  two  or  three  miles.     Got  any  papers  ?  " 

"  What  sort  of  papers  ?  " 

"  To  cross  the  bridge." 

"  I  think  I  can  get  across.     You  got  papers  ?  " 

"I  didn't  have  none  when  I  come,  but  I  got  'em  now." 

"  Did  you  have  any  trouble  in  coming  ?  " 

"  Lots  of  it ;  hadn't  been  for  a  officer  that  knowed  me  hap- 
penin'  along,  they'd  ha'  turned  me  back." 

"  I  reckon  they'll  stop  us  a  long  time  anyhow." 

"  Yes,  they're  mighty  slow  about  it." 

"  Can't  you  add  my  name  to  your  pass  ?  " 

"No;  I  wouldn't  resk  it,  Bud;  but  I'll  tell  'em  you're  all 
right." 

I  doubted  that  my  friend  Saddler's  word  would  be  taken  for 


166        A  FRIEND   WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

a  guaranty  of  my  character  —  doubted  it  so  strongly  that  I 
began  to  wish  I  could  get  rid  of  him,  for  I  believed  that  alone 
I  could  make  my  way  across  the  river,  at  the  bridge,  perhaps ; 
or,  if  not  there,  then  by  fording  in  the  darkness. 

We  had  reached  a  cross-road ;  Saddler,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  filed  right. 

"  A  leetle  inore'n  a  mile  to  the  bridge,  now,"  he  said. 

Troops  were  marching  west  —  an  infantry  regiment ;  per- 
haps more  than  a  regiment,  for  the  losses  of  the  Confederates 
had  been  so  great  that  brigades  seemed  regiments.  I  saw  my 
chance. 

«  Saddler." 

«  What's  the  matter,  Bud  ?  " 

"  Let's  get  in  with  these  folks,  and  go  across  with  'em  with- 
out having  to  wait." 

"You're  right,  by  ganniesl"  said  he;  "we'll  save  lots  o' 
time." 

"  Mind,  now,"  said  I ;  "  don't  say  a  word  to  'em  ;  get  in  at 
the  end  of  a  company  if  we  can,  and  we'll  be  all  right ;  they 
won't  know  any  better." 

We  did  it.  The  troops  crossed  without  halting.  No  man 
had  said  a  word  to  me ;  the  men  were  tired  and  sleepy  and  did 
not  talk.  I  have  never  known  what  troops  they  were ;  asking 
would  have  betrayed  my  intrusion.  We  continued  to  march 
for  a  mile  in  the  ranks ;  then  I  felt  Saddler  pull  my  sleeve ;  I 
stepped  out  with  him  to  the  left,  and  the  column  went  on  by. 
The  night  was  yet  cloudy  and  dark. 

Saddler  soon  left  me,  to  make  his  way  to  Davis's  brigade. 
The  kindhearted  fellow  bade  me  good-by  with  words  of  regret. 


XVI 

THE   BLOODY  ANGLE 

"The  mailed  Mars  shall  on  his  altar  sit, 
Up  to  the  ears  in  blood." — SHAKESPEARB. 

THE  sun  had  not  risen  on  the  llth  of  May  when,  still  clad  as 
a  Confederate,  I  approached  the  rendezvous.  My  feet  were 
weary,  and  my  head  ached  with  loss  of  sleep  and  from  long 
suppressed  excitement. 

Yet  on  debatable  ground,  I  was  making  my  way  through 
the  woods  within  sight  of  the  railroad  grade,  hoping  soon  to 
reach  the  end  of  my  labours.  Half  a  mile  more,  and  I  should 
find  my  own  —  my  friends  of  the  Union  cause,  and  my  horse 
—  to  relieve  me  before  I  should  be  completely  exhausted.  I 
had  accomplished  the  work  undertaken.  There  remained  now 
nothing  to  do  but  report. 

My  weariness  was  very  great.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  more 
and  I  rested,  and  now  thinking  that  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
to  send  Long  to  General  Meade,  I  wrote  a  note  as  follows :  — 

"  GENERAL  :  —  I  beg  to  report  that  the  salient  can  be  carried  if  both  sideg 
of  the  angle  are  attacked  simultaneously  with  heavy  forces. 

"Respectfully, 

"  JONES  BERWICK." 

I  folded  this  paper  and  put  it  into  my  pocket,  intending  to 
despatch  it  by  Long,  whose  horse  was  the  best  of  the  three,  as 
soon  as  I  should  reach  the  men. 

I  rose  to  go  on,  when  suddenly  I  heard  the  noise  of  tramp- 
ing hoofs ;  I  stepped  behind  a  tree ;  the  horses  were  coming 
west  up  the  railroad  grade.  Clearly  the  party  in  my  front 

167 


168        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

must  be  Federals,  yet  I  would  be  cautious,  and  observe  without 
being  seen. 

The  sounds  grew  louder,  and  soon  I  saw  from  my  hiding- 
place  a  sight  which  destroyed  all  my  hopes  for  speedy  rest. 
Four  Confederate  cavalrymen  led  the  squad.  Behind  these 
four  men  rode  Long  and  John  Kingsbury,  prisoners.  Three 
other  Confederates  brought  up  the  rear,  one  of  them  leading  my 
captured  horse. 

How  could  these  fellows  have  been  so  careless  as  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  taken !  I  had  given  them  strict  orders  to 
remain  in  hiding  within  the  thicket,  and  that  one  should 
always  be  on  the  watch.  Now  I  was  alone  and  without  help, 
and  with  miles  and  miles  yet  to  go  before  I  could  get  help,  for  I 
could  not  expect  to  find  Union  men  much  this  side  of  Todd's 
Tavern,  and  in  my  excited  state  this  knowledge  so  unnerved 
me  that  I  confess  I  stood  there  and  blubbered  like  a  boy. 

The  sounds  of  the  horses'  hoofs  died  away  in  the  west.  I 
rose  and  staggered  on.  The  little  rest  I  had  just  taken  had 
increased  my  stiffness.  I  went  straight  to  the  place  where  I 
had  left  Long  and  Kingsbury.  I  wanted  to  see,  if  possible, 
what  they  had  been  doing  to  allow  themselves  to  be  captured. 
At  the  spot  the  ground  showed  no  evidence  of  any  struggle, 
but  the  remains  of  a  camp-fire  gave  me  at  once  the  clew  which 
had  guided  the  Confederates  to  the  place.  No  doubt  the  light 
of  the  fire  had  been  seen  in  the  early  morning  by  Confederates 
from  the  railroad,  and  they  had  silently  surrounded  my  two 
comrades.  Everything  was  gone. 

I  sat  down  a  while,  and  tried  to  eat,  but  my  stomach  was 
sick,  and  refused  food.  My  face  and  body  were  in  a  clammy 
sweat;  I  felt  necessity  for  air,  and  hastily  laid  aside  my 
accoutrements,  and  snatched  off  my  coat. 

After  a  little  my  strength  and  spirits  returned.  I  considered 
whether  this  were  the  time  and  place  for  me  to  change  my 
clothing  and  become  a  Union  soldier.  I  remember  that  I 
turned  the  coat  with  this  purpose,  and  afterward  reflected  that 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  169 

I  was  yet  on  doubtful  ground  and  turned  it  back  again  to  the 
Confederate  side. 

I  succeeded  in  eating  a  little  and  rose  to  go,  but  I  had  not 
taken  a  step  before  the  bushes  rustled  at  my  front,  and  three 
Union  cavalrymen  —  one  of  them  a  corporal  —  advanced  upon 
me. 

"  Throw  down  that  gun,"  said  the  corporal. 

I  threw  down  my  gun  very  willingly. 

Said  I,  "  Boys,  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 

I  was  laughing,  for  the  transition  from  sorrow  to  joy  had 
been  very  sudden.  I  now  felt  relieved  of  all  my  fears.  With 
the  help  of  these  men  I  should  succeed  in  reaching  General 
Meade  in  a  few  hours,  and  then  I  could  rest  with  a  mind  free 
from  care. 

"  You  are  laughing,  eh  ?  "  said  the  corporal.  "  You  will 
soon  laugh  on  the  wrong  side  of  your  mouth." 

"Take  me  to  General  Meade,"  said  I,  "or  to  your  com- 
mander, who  can  send  me  to  the  general." 

"I  don't  propose  to  carry  you  quite  that  far,"  said  he, 
glowering. 

"I  have  an  important  report  to  make  to  General  Meade," 
said  I,  "  and  if  you  delay  me  he  will  be  greatly  chagrined." 

"  Still  keeping  it  up  ?  "  said  he,  scowling  horribly. 

"  Yes,  still  keeping  it  up,"  said  I.  "  What  do  you  take  me 
for?" 

"  Oh ! "  said  he,  "  I  want  no  more  of  this  dam  sheenanagin. 
I  saw  you  there  in  the  thicket  turn  your  coat,  dam  you." 

I  laughed  at  this,  though  I  was,  I  confess,  beginning  to  be  a 
little  alarmed.  These  men  were  of  the  rougher  sort. 

"  I  am  in  General  Meade's  official  employ,"  said  I. 

"  Jim,  go  git  me  that  rope  from  my  saddle,"  said  the  corporal. 

The  thing  began  to  look  ugly.  We  were  now  on  the  edge 
of  the  opening  near  the  railroad  grade.  Just  at  our  left, 
toward  the  west,  there  was  a  sudden  turn  of  the  railroad  so 
that  we  could  not  see  very  far  in  that  direction,  but  down  the 


170        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

vista  toward  the  Brock  road  the  way  was  open  for  a  long 
distance. 

"  Corporal,"  said  I,  "  if  you  seriously  question  my  character, 
I  can  speedily  prove  to  you  that  I  am  a  Union  soldier." 

"You  are  a  dam  rebel  trying  to  get  into  our  lines  in  dis- 
guise," said  he,  "  and  we  are  ordered  by  General  Pleasonton  to 
hang  you." 

The  man  called  Jim  now  came  up  with  a  rope. 

"  What  is  your  regiment,  Corporal  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,  it's  none  of  your  business,"  said  he ;  "  but  I  don't 
mind  telling  you;  it's  the  Fifth  New  York." 

I  noticed  that  the  men  were  armed  with  new  Spencer  car- 
bines —  seven-shooters. 

"  You  might  as  well  say  your  prayers,"  said  the  corporal ; 
"your  time  has  come,  and  you  have  got  very  little  to  spare." 

I  thrust  my  hand  into  my  haversack. 

"Drop  that,"  said  he. 

"  Corporal,"  said  I,  "  I  am  simply  going  to  give  you  General 
Meade's  own  handwriting.  I  am  not  armed.  There  is  nothing 
in  my  haversack  to  hurt  you." 

"  Well,  fetch  her  out,"  said  he ;  "  let's  see  what  she  is." 

I  rummaged  in  the  bottom  of  my  haversack,  and  brought 
out  all  five  buttons,  but  they  had  become  so  greasy  that  I  was 
unable  to  distinguish  the  marked  button  which  contained 
General  Meade's  order.  However,  after  diligent  search,  I  be- 
lieved that  I  had  found  the  right  button,  and  handed  it  to 
the  corporal,  saying,  "  Take  the  butt  of  your  carbine,  please, 
and  break  that." 

He  laughed  scornfully.  "  The  hell  you  say !  How  can  any- 
thing be  in  this  button  ?  "  Yet  he  handed  it  to  Jim  and  told 
him  to  smash  it.  Jim  placed  the  button  on  a  stone,  and  brought 
the  butt  of  his  carbine  down  upon  it. 

There  was  nothing  in  it. 

I  suppose  I  looked  very  blank.  The  men  —  at  least  two  of 
them  —  seemed  angry,  thinking  that  I  was  merely  consuming 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  171 

time  with  a  shallow  device.  The  other  man,  however,  I  could 
tell  by  the  motion  of  his  head,  was  in  doubt  as  to  my  character, 
although  he  had  as  yet  said  nothing  —  perhaps  the  fact  that 
the  button  had  shivered,  was  puzzling  him. 

"  Corporal ! "  I  exclaimed  tremulously,  "  an  order  from  Gen- 
eral Meade  detaching  me  is  in  one  of  these  buttons.  I  want 
them  all  smashed  until  the  right  one  is  found." 

The  corporal  said,  "No,  by  God;  I  will  fool  with  you  no 
longer.  I  will  string  you  up." 

And  now  the  mild  man  broke  in.  "  Corporal,"  said  he,  "  I 
would  not  do  that;  let's  give  him  a  chance.  Let's  break  all 
of  the  buttons,"  and  he  took  them  from  me,  and  began  to  work 
on  them,  but  in  not  one  of  those  buttons  was  anything  found, 
the  fifth  and  last  bending  and  flattening  on  the  stone. 

Even  the  mild  man  now  turned  against  me.  "  String  him 
up,"  said  he. 

Of  course  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  tell  my  thoughts, 
if  I  had  any  at  the  time.  My  own  testimony  had  fallen  upon 
me  with  fatal  force. 

Jim  began  to  untwist  the  rope.  I  did  not  give  up  entirely ; 
I  took  out  the  note  I  had  written  to  General  Meade,  and 
handed  it  to  the  corporal. 

"  Read  that,"  I  said. 

He  read  it  and  said,  "  Well,  what  is  this  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  report  to  General  Meade,"  said  I. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  ?  You  are  writing  here  to  some  gen- 
eral, or  somebody  is  writing  to  some  general,  but  how  in  the 
hell  do  I  know  what  general,  or  who  it  is  that's  writing? 
This  is  some  more  of  your  tomfoolery ! " 

Nevertheless,  he  put  the  paper  into  his  pocket,  and  looked  a 
little  staggered.  I  began  to  believe  that  I  had  succeeded  in  get- 
ting a  respite  at  least,  and  that  my  complete  success  was  assured, 
and  I  said  with  all  the  boldness  that  I  could  muster,  "  Corporal, 
whatever  you  do  with  me  makes  very  little  difference,  but  I  beg 
that  you  send  this  note  to  General  Meade  without  delay." 


172        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Evidently  this  staggered  him  a  little  more.  He  bent  his 
head  in  reflection,  and  said,  "  Say,  Jim,  tie  this  man." 

I  put  my  hands  out  before  me. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  behind  your  back." 

I  obeyed,  and  my  hands  were  bound  tightly  with  the  rope. 
The  men  led  me  away  to  their  horses;  the  old  Enfield  was 
left  behind  in  the  thicket. 

The  corporal  mounted ;  then  he  ordered  the  men  to  mount, 
and  commanded  me  to  march  before  him. 

At  this  moment,  up  the  railroad  grade,  from  the  turning, 
not  more  than  three  hundred  yards  away,  there  came  the 
sound  of  a  rifle-shot,  and  in  a  moment  more  a  dozen  cavalry- 
men charged  upon  us  full  tilt. 

The  corporal  put  spurs  to  his  horse.  The  men  who  were  yet 
on  foot  mounted  hastily,  and  all  three  rode  as  fast  as  their 
horses  could  carry  them,  hotly  pursued  by  the  enemy. 

I  had  been  left  alone  standing  with  my  arms  bound  behind 
me.  The  Confederates  passed  me  without  pausing,  but  their 
lean  steeds  were  no  match  for  the  better-fed  horses  of  the 
New  York  cavalry,  and  the  pursuit  was  quickly  given  up. 

But  for  extreme  enervation  resulting  from  mental  torture  in 
the  succession  of  rapid  events  just  narrated,  I  should  have  had 
the  presence  of  mind  to  crawl  into  the  thicket  before  the 
enemy  returned.  But  the  truth  is  that  I  had  sunk  down  in 
the  spot  where  I  stood,  without  power  to  move,  or  perhaps 
even  to  speak.  I  was  soon  surrounded  by  the  squad  of 
Confederates. 

"  What-in-the-name-of-sense ! "  said  one  of  them  —  a  ser- 
geant. "  Is  this  the  way  the  Yankees  treat  the  prisoners  they 
take  from  us  ?  " 

I  did  not  reply. 

"  What  brigade  do  you  belong  to  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  McGowan's,"  I  stammered. 

"  McGowan's ! "  said  he ;  "  McGowan's  is  ten  miles  from  here." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  173 

"  Then  why  are  you  here  ?  " 
"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  I. 

The  men  looked  very  compassionate.  They  understood  that 
I  needed  time  for  recovery  from  emotion.  I  knew  not  what  to 
say.  To  explain  my  emotion  by  telling  these  men  that  the 
Yankees  had  been  about  to  hang  me  seemed  unwise,  for  I 
should  then  have  had  to  give  the  reasons  that  had  moved 
them  to  hang  me,  and  this  I  must  not  do.  Yet,  how  could  I 
give  any  reason  for  their  binding  me  ?  I  decided  to  remain 
silent. 

"Give  him  some  water,"  said  the  sergeant  to  one  of  the 
men.  Another  tried  to  untie  the  rope  which  bound  my  hands, 
but  finding  the  knot  very  difficult,  he  used  his  knife.  I  felt 
that  I  was  in  great  danger;  an  unguarded  word  might  now 
betray  my  character  as  a  Union  spy. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  I,  "  can't  you  send  me  to  McGowan's  bri- 
gade ?  " 

"  That  is  owing  to  where  it  is,"  said  he.  "  I  can  send  you  to 
our  nearest  infantry,  and  then  you  can  make  your  way." 

"  That  will  do  very  well,"  said  I,  "  and  I  shall  be  very  greatly 
obliged  to  you." 

The  men,  seeing  my  weakness,  kindly  helped  me  to  mount 
behind  one  of  the  squad. 

"  How  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  sergeant ;  "  how  is  it  that  you  have 
your  cartridge-box  and  no  gun  ?  " 

"  I  had  forgotten  the  gun,  sir ;  it  is  just  back  yonder  where 
the  Yankees  took  me,"  and  I  pointed  to  the  spot. 

One  of  the  men  soon  found  the  old  Enfield  and  gave  it  to  me. 
The  man  behind  whom  I  was  mounted  kindly  relieved  me  of  its 
burden. 

The  party  now  turned  westward  along  the  railroad  grade, 
the  sergeant  riding  near  me,  and  asking  me  questions  concern- 
ing the  predicament  in  which  he  had  found  me.  I  told  him 
that  I  had  been  in  the  battle  of  The  Wilderness,  and  had 
become  separated  from  my  command,  and  had  served  with 


174        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Wofford's  brigade ;  that  I  had  suffered  greatly  from  exhaus. 
tion,  and  had  not  yet  found  McGowan,  who  had  marched  away, 
I  supposed.  He  seemed  satisfied  with  this,  remarking  that 
there  were  many  stragglers  yet  absent  from  their  commands ; 
that  they  were  daily  swelling  Lee's  army  by  their  return  to  it. 
"  We  were  on  the  march,"  said  he,  "  to  Louisa  Court-House,  and 
came  across  a  squad  of  our  men,  who  had  captured  two  Yan- 
kees somewhere  near  this  spot,  and  they  advised  me  to  look 
down  the  railroad  some  distance  before  going  on,  and  see  if 
there  was  not  more  game  in  sight,  for  they  had  three  captured 
horses  and  only  two  men.  I  am  glad  that  we  did,  for  I  much 
prefer  releasing  one  of  our  own  men  to  capturing  one  of  theirs. 
Our  road  leads  us  to  the  rear  of  the  army,  and  I  will  turn  you 
over  to  the  first  infantry  I  find." 

These  men  were  Virginians  —  Fourth  Virginia.  Soon  we 
reached  the  Parker's  Store  road,  and  turned  south  —  always 
in  a  trot,  which  perhaps  relieved  me  a  little,  or  at  least  trans- 
ferred my  weariness  to  different  muscles.  It  had  begun  to 
rain,  and  it  continued  raining  for  a  greater  part  of  the  day. 
Before  it  was  quite  noon  we  crossed  the  Po,  and  halted  on  the 
Shady  Grove,  or  Catharpin,  road  —  the  same  road  on  which  I 
had  advanced  toward  the  Confederate  lines  on  the  preceding 
day.  Here  Sergeant  Crump  ordered  Bays,  the  man  behind 
whom  I  was  riding,  to  take  me  east  toward  Shady  Grove  until 
he  should  find  any  infantry  command,  to  which  he  was  to 
hand  me  over,  and  then  return.  "  We  will  wait  here  for  you," 
said  he. 

I  thanked  Crump  as  well  as  I  knew  how.  I  was  very  doubt- 
ful concerning  the  good  he  had  done  me,  for  I  was  now  back 
in  the  Confederate  army,  instead  of  with  my  own  people  as  I 
believed  I  should  have  been  at  this  time.  Yet  my  regrets  were 
not  very  great.  The  men  who  had  bound  me  might  have 
repented  of  their  hesitation. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  found  infantry  in  bivouac  on  the 
left  of  the  road ;  we  advanced  at  once  into  their  midst. 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  175 

"  Say,"  shouted  a  young  fellow,  "  here  comes  a  man  a-ridin' 
twice." 

Nobody  laughed  at  this.  I  supposed  it  was  a  common  remark 
on  seeing  a  horse  carrying  double. 

"  Whose  brigade  is  this  ?  "  Bays  asked. 

"  Harris's,"  said  one. 

"  Where  is  your  captain  ?  " 

"  Lieutenant  Mixon ! "  somebody  called  out. 

Lieutenant  Mixon  came  up.     "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

Bays  told  him  the  circumstances.  Here  was  a  released  pris- 
oner he  had  had  the  good  fortune  to  set  free  from  the  Yan- 
kees ;  all  that  he  could  do  was  to  turn  him  over  to  Lieutenant 
Mixon,  and  then  go  back  to  his  place. 

I  scrambled  down  and  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  curi- 
ous men.  Bays  handed  me  my  gun  and  rode  off. 

"  What  is  your  regiment  ?  "  asked  Lieutenant  Mixon. 

"  First  South  Carolina,  sir." 

"  Brigade  ?  " 

"  McGowan's." 

"  Hill's  corps  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  On  the  other  side  three  miles  from  here,  or  more,"  said  he. 
"  How  did  you  get  caught  ?  " 

"  Straggling,  sir." 

"  As  usual,"  said  he. 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  I,  "  I  am  too  tired  to  go  on,  or  to  do  any- 
thing but  lie  down." 

"  Well,  my  man,  lie  down  and  stay  —  that  is,  until  you  can 
do  better.  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Jones." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  fighting  whatever  along  the  lines,  or 
at  least  on  this  part  of  the  lines,  on  the  llth  of  May.  Har- 
ris's brigade  was  composed  of  Mississippians  entirely.  The 
regiment  in  which  I  now  found  myself  was  the  Sixteenth, 
commanded  by  Colonel  Baker,  a  very  gallant  officer,  as  I  after- 


176        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

ward  had  cause  to  know.  My  intentions  were  to  remain  witk. 
these  men  until  nightfall,  and  then  slip  away.  I  yet  had  a 
little  food,  and  it  was  well  that  I  had,  for  not  one  of  the  Con- 
federates offered  to  divide  with  me.  Perhaps  they  were  hun- 
grier than  I. 

The  day  massed  with  nothing  to  do,  the  brigade  remaining 
in  its  position  without  movement.  I  could  not  sleep,  although 
I  was  very  sleepy.  I  had  no  great  fears  for  the  future ;  I 
would  wait  until  darkness  should  come,  and  then  steal  quietly 
away  into  the  woods ;  but  the  experience  of  the  past  few  days, 
and  especially  of  this  day,  had  wrought  in  me  such  a  condition 
of  nervous  tension  that  I  could  not  rest  long  in  any  posture ; 
I  could  not  even  think  clearly. 

Some  of  the  men  talked  to  me,  and  got  from  me  a  true 
account  —  with  a  few  exceptions  —  of  my  capture  and  my 
rescue.  The  brigade  was  of  Anderson's  division,  now  under 
Mahone,  in  consequence  of  Anderson's  taking  temporary  com- 
mand of  Longstreet's  corps.  So  far  as  I  could  learn,  there 
was  no  other  Confederate  infantry,  and  no  Federals  at  all,  on 
the  south  side  of  the  Po.  There  was  a  picket-line  in  our 
front  and  on  our  left  flank. 

Just  at  sunset  I  fell  asleep,  and  slept  like  a  log.  Loud 
sounds  woke  me.  When  I  opened  my  eyes  it  was  broad  day ; 
the  long  roll  was  beating,  and  men  were  falling  into  ranks. 
Lieutenant  Mixon  called  out,  "  Here,  you  man;  fall  in  quickly." 
There  was  nothing  for  me  but  to  obey.  The  regiment  marched 
by  the  right  flank  toward  Spottsylvania  Court-House.  From 
the  north,  two  miles  away,  came  the  sounds  of  a  great  engage- 
ment. Rain  was  still  falling.  The  brigade  struck  the  road, 
and  was  urged  forward  at  a  double  quick.  Up  hill,  and  down 
hill,  and  across  the  bridge,  and  on  to  the  road  toward  Spottsyl- 
vania Court-House,  and  then  to  the  left  on  the  northward  road 
we  went  at  a  double  quick,  the  file-closers  constantly  urging 
the  men,  and  the  men  responding  with  a  will  —  for  every  man 
knew  the  urgent  necessity  for  reenforcing  the  Confederate 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  177 

troops  already  engaged  at  the  front.  The  noise  of  the  artil- 
lery, mingled  with  volumes  of  musketry  fire,  constantly  reached 
my  ears,  growing  louder  and  louder  as  we  approached  the  point 
of  conflict,  which  I  soon  knew  was  the  salient  itself. 

Within  the  angle  conflicting  thunders  reverberated  from 
cloud  to  forest.  From  dense,  low-hanging  smoke,  great  crowds 
of  bleeding  Confederates,  great  crowds  of  straggling  Confed- 
erates, great  crowds  of  Union  prisoners  in  many  directions 
pressed  hasty  steps  to  the  rear,  while,  meeting  them  and  cross- 
ing them,  regiments  and  brigades  at  the  run  were  going  for- 
ward to  the  fight.  The  crashing  of  branches,  the  howling  of 
shells,  the  near  whiz  of  the  Mini£  ball,  commingled,  while  the 
shout  of  officers  and  the  yell  of  charging  hosts  on  both  sides 
told  us  that  the  front  lines  had  interlocked  in  an  unheard-of 
struggle. 

Mounted  officers  in  the  woods  strove  ineffectually  to  rally 
fugitives  who  rushed  headlong  through  ranks  of  troops  ad- 
vancing. I  saw  a  fleeing  soldier  fall  dead;  I  saw  a  caisson 
burst  and  throw  death  and  disorder  for  fifty  yards  around; 
I  saw  a  horse  ploughed  through  and  through  by  a  shell  which 
exploded  immediately  afterward  and  killed  three  men ;  I  saw 
a  red  battle-flag  go  down  and  rise  again;  then  I  heard  the 
voice  of  Colonel  Baker,  — "  Forward  Sixteenth,  and  hold  your 
fire ! "  and  then  I  saw  Colonel  Baker  fall. 

What  could  a  man  not  see  ?  Within  a  radius  of  a  hundred 
yards  no  horror  was  lacking.  But  what  could  a  man  see  ? 
Shut  in  by  the  woods,  misty  with  falling  rain  and  rising 
vapours,  and  smoky  with  battle,  no  man  could  see  how  the 
fight  was  going. 

Colonel  Baker  is  dead.  The  regiment  is  running  forward 
by  the  flank,  the  men  at  trailed  arms,  every  man  panting  for 
breath,  going  we  know  not  where — only  forward  to  the  breast- 
works. I  know  the  ground.  We  are  now  in  rear  of  Kamseur 
—  the  right  of  Kamseur,  and  the  left  of  Doles.  But  where  is 
Ramseur  now,  and  where  is  Doles  ?  Have  we  met  their  routed 


178       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

men  ?  Are  the  Union  troops  in  possession  of  the  works  once 
held  by  these  brigades  ?  Then  why  are  we  advancing  by  the 
flank? 

The  rage  of  strife  increases.  Even  more  does  death  abound, 
and  in  every  inconceivable  form;  still  the  cannon  roar,  and 
the  branches  fall,  and  the  echoes  of  the  forest  are  silenced  by 
mightier  sounds.  If  the  Federals  are  in  the  trenches,  the 
Sixteenth  will  be  slaughtered  by  a  fire  from  many  directions 
poured  on  its  flanks  and  its  head.  Lieutenant  Mixon  falls. 

Still  the  regiment  holds  its  fire,  although  vacant  intrench- 
ments  are  near  at  hand,  with  spouts  of  smoke  bursting  from 
their  farther  side,  where  the  Federals  lie  ensconced. 

And  now  from  our  right  a  gray  line  of  battle  advances, 
cheering. 

The  Sixteenth  keeps  on  by  the  flank,  up  the  breastworks 
toward  the  angle,  marching  across  the  course  of  the  advancing 
line,  which  later  we  found  to  be  Gordon's.  Behind  the  breast- 
works on  the  Confederate  side,  men  are  lying,  —  the  dead  and 
wounded,  —  and  a  few  strong  men  are  yet  there,  most  of  them 
hiding  behind  cover,  but  others  loading  and  firing.  Bullets 
are  coming  from  the  right,  where  our  Union  men  hold  the 
east  face  of  the  angle;  our  Mississippians  are  dropping  fast, 
but  those  who  live  work  their  way  along  the  line,  firing  now, 
and  moving  slowly. 

A  terrific  sheet  of  fire  comes,  and  I  see  and  feel  the  column 
stagger  and  then  halt.  Every  man  lies  down.  The  Yankees 
are  just  across  the  works.  They  lie  there  afraid  to  rise;  we 
lie  here  afraid  to  rise. 

In  all  the  scramble  I  had  yet  not  even  pretended  to  fight. 
Some  of  the  men's  rifles  failed  to  fire  in  the  rain.  Men  rose, 
aimed  at  a  Federal's  head  at  the  right,  fired,  and  began  to  load, 
the  water  dripping  from  their  ramrods.  The  right  of  our 
column  rested  on  a  short  traverse,  and  was  protected.  The 
line  farther  from  the  traverse  was  exposed  to  enfilade  fire. 
Now  I  aimed  and  pulled  the  trigger,  noises  in  our  midst 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  179 

making  the  act  a  safe  one.  The  men  were  huddled  in  the 
trench ;  the  trench  was  running  bloody  water.  Again  I  aimed 
and  pulled.  The  man  next  to  me  said,  "Look  out;  don't  put 
another  cartridge  in  that  gun ;  it  didn't  go  off ! " 

"No,"  said  I;  "it's  wet." 

I  picked  up  another  rifle;  rifles  were  plentiful.  Without 
loading  it  I  pulled  again,  aiming  high.  The  noise  was  so 
great  that,  this  time,  I  did  not  know  whether  I  had  fired; 
yet  I  thought  I  felt  the  rebound.  I  began  to  load,  spilling 
most  of  the  powder,  and  getting  the  rest  wet.  I  aimed  and 
pulled. 

Oh,  for  the  power  to  make  our  men  rise  and  take  the  whole 
business  of  us !  It  could  have  been  done.  Either  side  could 
have  taken  the  other,  but  it  would  have  required  an  inspiration 
from  God. 

Again  I  picked  up  my  own  gun.  A  great  clamour  arises  be- 
hind us,  and  another  Confederate  line  struggles  from  the  rear, 
and  reaches  our  position.  They,  too,  have  worked  their  way 
along  the  intrenchments  by  the  flank ;  they  wish  to  extend  the 
line,  but  there  is  no  extension ;  they  begin  to  lie  down  in  our 
ranks. 

And  now  I  see  Captain  Shooter  fall,  with  death  in  his  face, 
and  I  know  that  the  new  line  is  the  old  First.1 

Men  of  the  First  and  Sixteenth  were  now  intermingled. 
My  face  was  bearded  —  my  face  was  covered  with  gunpowder 
—  I  had  little  fear  of  being  recognized ;  if  I  should  be  recog- 
nized, might  it  not  be  for  my  good  ?  Men  of  the  old  company 
would  thereafter  say  that  crazy  Jones  had  turned  up  by 
magic  in  the  great  fight  of  May  12th,  had  suddenly  appeared 
in  the  midst  of  his  old  company,  coming  no  one  knew  whence, 

1  Inadvertently  Mr.  Berwick  errs  in  the  title  given  to  this  gallant  officer. 
Mr.  Berwick  had  been  one  of  McGowan's  sharp-shooters ;  Captain  Shooter  had 
commanded  that  battalion  after  the  death  of  Captain  Haskell  at  Gettysburg, 
and  had  since  risen  in  rank.  Lieutenant-Colonel  W.  P.  Shooter  of  the  First 
South  Carolina  Regiment  fell  at  Spottsylvania  on  the  12th  of  May.  [En.] 


180        A  FEIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

but  coming.  ...  A  straggler  returning  to  his  command  at 
such  a  time  would  be  counted  true  —  grandly  true ;  if  appear- 
ances had  been  against  him  before,  now  all  would  be  atoned 
for. 

Should  I  declare  myself?  Should  I  regard  this  an  oppor- 
tunity ? 

"  Jones,  that's  your  regiment,"  said  a  Mississippi  sergeant. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  I,  and  crawled  to  my  left  a  little,  and 
on  down  toward  the  left  of  the  First. 

The  South  Carolina  men  kept  coming  from  the  left.  I  saw 
General  McGowan,  commanding  the  brigade,  suddenly  sit 
with  one  hand  holding  the  other  which  was  full  of  blood  from 
a  wound  in  the  arm.  He  was  taken  out. 

I  reached  Company  H. 

"  Sergeant  Mackay,"  said  I,  "  I  report  for  duty." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  company  was  busy,  loading  and  firing.  I  saw  Wallace 
Williams. 

"  Jones,"  said  I. 

Mackay  looked  almost  frightened ;  then  he  smiled  and  held 
out  his  hand,  and  started  to  speak,  but  he  never  spoke,  for  a 
bullet  cut  the  thread  of  his  life  and  he  fell  almost  in  my  lap, 
dying  with  the  smile  on  his  lips. 

I  saw  Lieutenant  Miller,  and  crawled  to  speak  to  him; 
before  I  reached  him  I  saw  him  hit ;  he  at  once  went  to  the 
rear. 

Wallace  Williams  was  near  me.  I  saw  him  rise  from  his 
knees  and  take  long  aim ;  but  he  did  not  fire.  Backward  he 
fell  in  the  muddy  trench,  and  added  another  to  the  slain. 

Old  John  Wilson  took  the  vacant  place  on  the  right.1  He 
was  smoking  —  no,  not  smoking,  for  the  rain  had  drowned  his 
pipe,  but  he  yet  held  a  cob  in  his  mouth.  This  man  was  a 
silent  man ;  rarely  did  he  use  words ;  the  boys  in  Company  H 

3  The  place  of  orderly-sergeant  just  made  vacant  by  Mackay 's  death.   [ED.] 


THE   BLOODY  ANGLE  181 

used  to  say  that  he  smoked  to  keep  from  talking.  I  went  to 
him.  He  put  out  his  hand  with  a  gesture  that  meant:  Get 
back  to  your  place. 

Captain  Barnwell  was  there,  but  I  did  not  speak  to  him,  nor 
did  I  once  see  that  he  observed  me. 

In  the  trenches  were  troops  of  the  First,  the  Twelfth,  the 
Fourteenth,  and  Harris's  Mississippians,  all  mixed  together. 
They  fought  alongside  as  if  they  were  of  the  same  command, 
yet  each  man  did  as  he  chose.  Colonel  Brown,  of  the  Four- 
teenth regiment,  was  now  in  command  of  McGowan's  brigade. 
I  saw  him  more  than  once.  The  officers  gave  few  orders; 
most  of  them  kept  their  heads  down;  the  men  loaded  and 
fired,  but  there  were  timid  ones  who  lay  full  length  in  the 
mud  and  never  fired  a  shot.  Nobody  knew  me ;  neither  should 
I  have  recognized  one  of  these  men  had  I  not  with  difficulty 
unriddled  them,  for  they  were  muddy  and  begrimed ;  yet  I 
knew  them  by  their  voices. 

In  a  lull  of  the  fight,  Madison  Scott  raised  himself  on  his 
toes  —  he  was  a  small  man  —  and  looked  over  the  breastwork. 
He  had  his  gun  at  the  ready,  and  seemed  about  to  fire,  but  he 
did  not  fire  —  through  astonishment. 

"  Great  God  A'mighty,  —  JUST  .  .  .  LOOK  ...  AT  ...  'EM!" 
he  cried,  and  dodged  back  unhurt. 

I  saw  a  man  rise  and  fire  many  times  —  a  man  I  did  not 
know.  "While  others  huddled  in  the  trenches,  this  man,  grim 
with  determination,  deliberately  worked  destruction.  He  did 
everything  slowly  and  carefully.  He  protected  his  powder 
with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat;  he  rammed  the  cartridges  home; 
he  did  not  return  rammer,  but  stuck  it  in  the  mud,  to  save 
time;  he  stood  at  his  full  height  and  leaned  over  the  works, 
took  long  aim,  pulled,  and  stepped  back  to  reload;  then  he 
wasted  no  time,  but  at  once  took  good  aim  and  fired.  Many 
times  he  fired  point-blank  into  the  masses  crowded  together 
on  the  reverse  side  of  the  intrenchment.  At  last  he,  too,  fell. 

Men  on  both  sides  would  kneel  behind  the  works,  raise  their 


182        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

guns,  depress  the  muzzles  as  far  as  possible,  and  fire  by  pull- 
ing the  triggers  above  their  heads.  Sometimes  there  was  a 
tussle  for  the  possession  of  a  rifle  being  thus  used.  A  man 
on  the  other  side  would  seize  a  gun-barrel  and  try  to  pull  it 
away  from  its  owner;  sometimes,  just  as  the  gun  was  being 
fired,  a  strong,  unseen  hand  would  raise  it  so  that  the  bullet 
would  go  toward  the  clouds.  Many  voices  were  heard  on  the 
Union  side ;  our  men  said  little.  Demands  for  surrender  fre- 
quently came,  and  were  retorted  to  with  equal  demands. 

The  thing  went  on.  It  was  a  question  of  endurance.  Bul- 
lets swept  all  approaches,  and  maniac  shells  screamed  through 
the  woods  overhead  —  almost  always  fired  too  high.  The  trees 
around  began  to  lose  their  bark  —  a  raw  girdle  showing  at  the 
height  of  a  man.1  The  dead  and  wounded  lay  in  the  trench 
where  they  had  fallen. 

Rifles  were  plentiful.  Some  of  the  officers  picked  up  guns  and 
fired  away  like  the  men  in  the  ranks.  I  continued  to  feign. 

"Say,  my  man,"  said  a  voice  at  my  rear,  "can't  you  see 
that  your  gun  is  foul?" 

I  turned  and  saw  Colonel  Brown.  He  looked  amused ;  his 
tones  had  not  been  angry. 

"Let  me  see  that  gun!" 

I  passed  it  to  him ;  there  was  nothing  else  that  I  could  do. 
But  I  did  not  wait ;  I  picked  up  another  rifle,  loaded  and  fired 
high ;  he  was  watching  me,  no  doubt. 

"  See  here,  sir ! "  said  he. 

He  was  showing  me  the  rammer,  protruding  many  inches. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  it's  leaded,"  said  I. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"The  chamber  is  foul  with  lead,  sir,  formed  around  the 
barrel  near  the  breech ;  it's  hard  to  get  a  cartridge  down." 

1  From  Report  of  General  S.  McGowan.  "  To  give  some  idea  of  the  inten- 
sity of  the  fire,  an  oak  tree  twenty-two  inches  in  diameter  .  .  .  was  cut  down 
by  constant  scaling  of  musket  balls  .  .  .  injuring  by  its  fall  several  soldiers 
in  the  First  South  Carolina  Regiment."  [ED.] 


THE  BLOODY  ANGLE  183 

«  Why  do  you  hold  to  it,  then  ?    What  is  your  company  ?  " 

"  Company  H,  of  the  First,  Colonel." 

"  Your  name  ?  " 

"Jones,  sir." 

"  That's  no  name  at  all.  Give  me  your  full  name.  I  want 
it." 

"Berwick  Jones,  sir." 

He  went  off  after  a  little,  carrying  the  spiked  Enfield. 

Although  he  had  seemed  amused,  thinking  no  doubt  that 
in  the  excitement  of  battle  I  had  rammed  several  cartridges 
into  my  rifle  unaware,  yet  he  was  right  in  demanding  my 
name ;  I  should  get  a  scolding  from  my  captain  if  I  remained 
with  the  company. 

On  our  right  the  enfilade  fire  continued.  There  the  Union 
troops  held  the  breastworks  with  no  one  opposite  them ;  but 
for  the  traverse,  to  hold  our  line  would  have  been  impossible. 
Cartridge-boxes  were  replenished  by  men  who  stole  along  the 
works  from  the  left.  They  told  us  that  troops  in  the  rear 
were  hard  at  work  on  a  new  line  of  defence. 

At  last,  besides  the  dead  and  the  wounded,  I  failed  to  see 
any  of  Company  H,  except  one  boy.  The  survivors  had 
become  intermixed  with  men  of  other  commands,  or  perhaps 
had  moved  to  the  right  or  the  left. 

The  boy  I  saw  was  Promptly.  This  was,  of  course,  a  nick- 
name. Mackay  had  been  accustomed  to  cry  out,  "  Fall  in, 
men !  Fall  in  promptly  ! "  Some  wags  of  the  company  said 
that  the  first  order  was  addressed  to  the  men,  and  the  last  to 
the  boy,  who  became  known  in  the  regiment  by  the  name  of 
Promptly.  His  true  name  was  Rothwell.  To  my  great  sur- 
prise, Promptly  knew  me. 

Where  were  the  sharp-shooters  ?  Perhaps  they  too  were 
fighting  somewhere  on  the  line. 

Suddenly  a  man  hailed  me.  "Hey!  Berwick!  You  all 
right  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  L 


184        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

It  was  Chappell. 

"  How'd  I  lose  you  the  other  day  ?  " 

"  Got  mixed,"  said  I ;  then  seeing  blood  on  his  hand,  "  are 
you  much  hurt  ?  " 

"  No  —  only  a  scratch.  Ain't  this  a  hell  of  a  time  ?  I  tell 
you,  old  man,  it's  just  a  matter  of  time  with  the  last  of  us ; 
but  she'll  give  'em  the  best  she's  got  in  her  shop." 

I  was  glad  to  see  Chappell  again. 

"  You  got  through  the  other  day  unhurt  ?  " 

"  All  right ;  yes,  and  found  poor  Powell  and  covered  him." 

"  Wonder  where  the  sharp-shooters  are,"  said  I. 

"  Don't  know ;  in  the  line  somewhere.  I'm  going  to  get 
into  that  battalion  first  chance.  Look  at  that  oak." 

The  tree,  almost  cut  in  two  by  bullets,  seemed  ready  to  fall. 
I  pretended  to  fire,  saying,  "  This  old  thing  won't  shoot  half 
the  time." 

But  Chappell  was  busier  than  I,  and  had  not  heard  me.  He 
had  gone  on  to  the  right  a  few  yards.  The  desultory  firing 
never  ceased ;  occasionally  from  the  other  side  came  volleys 
of  musketry.  I  saw  heaps  of  dead. 

In  the  night  a  great  cry  rose  in  our  midst. 

"  Look  out !     The  big  tree  is  falling ! " 

But  it  was  too  late  for  me,  and  it  was  too  late  for  Promptly. 
As  I  write  I  see  the  boy  raising  his  hands  as  though  his  feeble 
strength  could  ward  the  blow.  I  see  now  the  branches  strike 
him  first  as  they  fall  on  me. 


XVII 

LYDIA   COMES   AND   GOES 

"  A  messenger 

Unknown  to  all  has  been  despatched  this  night. 
But  forecast  must  be  used,  a  plan  devised, 
Ready  for  service  when  my  scout  returns." 

—  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

WHEN  I  recovered  consciousness  all  was  dark  and  silent. 
At  first  I  did  not  know  where  I  was,  but  gradually  knowledge 
returned ;  I  knew  that  I  had  been  knocked  down  by  the  tree. 
Then  I  remembered  Promptly  and  called  his  name  aloud; 
there  was  no  response.  My  left  temple  was  throbbing  from 
pain.  I  put  my  hand  on  it  but  found  no  blood. 

Where  had  everybody  gone  ?  There  was  not  a  sound,  except 
that  made  by  the  falling  rain.  I  began  to  understand  that 
the  Confederates  had  retired.  Perhaps  the  Union  troops  like- 
wise had  withdrawn ;  perhaps  they  were  unwilling  to  advance 
in  the  night ;  they  were  silent,  possibly  asleep. 

I  moved  my  limbs  and  felt  my  body,  and  found  that  I  was 
injured  only  in  the  head. 

The  branches  of  the  tree  yet  pressed  upon  me.  By  great 
exertion  I  crawled  out,  and  sat  up,  but  at  once  lay  down  again. 
In  a  sitting  posture  the  pain  was  too  great  to  bear. 

I  wanted  day  to  come;  then  the  Union  troops  would  find 
me;  but  could  I  prove  to  them  that  I  was  one  of  them? 
Doubtless  they  would  attend  first  to  their  own  wounded. 

How  badly  hurt  I  was  I  could  not  know.  Possibly  I  should 
get  strength  before  the  night  passed  away ;  possibly  I  should 
not  need  to  be  sent  to  the  hospital. 

185 


186       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  think  I  slept,  for  the  night  had  passed  very  quickly.  When 
I  awoke,  Dr.  Khayme  was  bending  over  me. 

"  Poor  boy,"  he  said,  "  are  you  suffering  much  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Doctor !     How  did  you  get  here  ?  " 

"I  have  hunted  you.  I  thought  you  would  be  here.  Be 
patient  a  little  while." 

He  went  off.  It  was  full  daylight.  Behind  me,  as  I  lay 
there,  a  rattle  of  musketry  broke  out,  and  I  heard  the  Union 
troops  cheering  —  giving  three  times  three. 

Dr.  Khayme  returned,  accompanied  by  four  men  with  a 
stretcher. 

"  Doctor,"  I  said,  "  I  think  I  can  walk." 

"  I  know  you  can ;  but  it  is  best  for  you  to  ride  ;  you  must 
not  hold  up  your  head." 

"  Don't  forget  my  gun,  Doctor." 

«  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  ought  to  be  near  me.  No,  it  isn't ;  Colonel  Brown  took 
it." 

Dr.  Khayme  looked  at  me  with  attention,  as  though  he 
feared  I  was  light-headed. 

"  Any  other  Enfield  will  do,  Doctor.  Please  have  one  brought 
along." 

Soon  his  ambulance  was  reached,  and  I  was  driven  to  the 
Sanitary  Camp  and  put  to  bed. 

"I  have  sent  for  Lydia,"  said  the  Doctor. 

"  Where  is  she,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  She  is  at  Fredericksburg.  The  ambulance  will  bring  her 
before  night.  Now,  be  as  quiet  as  possible.  You  are  in  no 
danger  at  all  but  you  must  be  quiet." 

Off  to  the  west  I  heard  cannon. 

"  Are  they  still  fighting,  Doctor  ?  " 

"A  little." 

"We  had  another  line  to  retire  to." 

"  We  ?    Oh,  you  mean  the  Confederates  ?  * 

"Yes,  sir," 


LYDIA  COMES  AND   GOES  187 

"  Don't  bother  your  head  now ;  wait  till  I  order  you  to  talk." 

"  But  everything  is  going  well  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Did  General  Meade  get  my  report  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Now,  do  you  be  quiet.  I  shall  not  answer  another 
question." 

He  washed  me,  handling  iny  head  with  great  care ;  the  touch 
of  his  fingers  was  unspeakable  pleasure.  Then  he  applied  some 
sort  of  poultice  and  left  me.  I  sank  to  sleep. 

Lydia  came.  The  tent  was  heaven  after  hell.  I  learned  that 
when  General  Meade  had  received  my  report,  he  decided  to 
attack  the  salient. 

"  Doctor,  there  was  nothing  in  the  button." 

Lydia  rose,  and  went  out. 

"  Then  you  failed  to  put  the  right  one  on  your  coat  at  the 
very  first,"  said  he ;  "  where  are  the  others  ?  " 

"I  thought  you  kept  them,  Doctor." 

"  No ;  I  put  them  in  your  haversack ;  where  is  it  ?  " 

"Was  it  not  brought  here  with  me  ? " 

Dr.  Khayme  hunted  for  the  haversack,  but  failed  to  find 
it.  He  looked  very  serious,  so  serious  that  I  forbore  pressing 
the  matter;  moreover,  I  knew  that  there  had  been  only  five 
buttons  in  my  haversack  on  the  llth,  and  that  the  men  of  the 
Fifth  New  York  cavalry  had  broken  all  five. 

By  degrees  I  told  my  friends  what  I  had  gone  through. 

"  Remember  Chappell,"  said  Dr.  Khayme. 

My  strength  returned  rapidly.  My  condition  being  reported 
to  General  Meade,  he  sent  word  by  Watson  that  I  must  rest. 
A  few  days  of  great  happiness  went  by. 

On  the  night  of  the  17th  I  was  sent  for  by  General  Meade. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on,  Lieutenant  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

"  I  am  stronger  than  I  was,  sir ;  but  why  —  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  a  fact,"  said  he ;  "  here  is  your  commission,  and  I've 
had  it  dated  back,  so  that  you  can  get  all  you  lost  by  deserting 
to  the  rebels  last  year." 


188        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  thanked  the  general,  and  asked  for  orders. 

He  said  that  the  rebels  were  getting  round  our  right  in  force, 
and  that  their  cavalry  were  playing  the  wild  with  our  commu- 
nications on  the  Telegraph  road  —  the  main  road  from  Rich- 
mond to  Fredericksburg. 

"  But  you  are  pale  yet,  Berwick ;  you  must  rest  a  day  or  two 
longer,  and  I'll  try  to  get  along  without  you."  > 

"  General,  I  am  ready  to  serve." 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  this  thing  is  not  very  important.  Go  back 
and  rest.  I'll  need  you  worse  in  a  few  days." 

"  General,  you  got  my  note  on  the  eleventh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  know  the  whole  story  through  Dr.  Khayme.  I 
wish  we  had  attacked  as  you  suggested.  In  fact  we  did,  but 
our  left  column  did  not  succeed.  You  may  go.  I  don't  want 
you  to  get  killed  by  these  bushwhackers  behind  us ;  I  have 
more  important  work  for  you." 

I  returned  to  the  Sanitary  Camp  and  told  the  Doctor  that  I 
could  rest  a  little  longer. 

"The  army  will  advance  toward  Richmond,"  said  he;  "I 
hardly  think  it  will  move  before  the  twentieth.  Lydia  will  be 
sent  back  to  Fredericksburg  as  soon  as  the  advance  begins. 
Lee  will  keep  you  busy  a  long  time." 

"Doctor,  what  is  it  that  compels  me  to  run  up  against  old 
Company  H  ?  Every  time  I  go  out  I  find  my  old  comrades. 
I  found  them  at  Mine  Run,  and  in  The  Wilderness  —  at  least 
the  sharp-shooters  —  and  at  the  salient  I  was  right  in  their 
midst." 

"There  is  nothing  surprising  in  it,"  said  he.  "At  Mine 
Run  you  saw  all  of  Lee's  right ;  your  old  command  happened 
to  be  in  that  wing.  At  The  Wilderness  you  saw  Hill's  corps 
and  Longstreet's  as  well,  and  the  other  day  you  went  almost 
all  over  Lee's  lines.  Why  should  you  not  see  your  old  regi- 
ment when  you  see  everybody  else  ?  " 

"  And  there  is  another  thing,  Doctor,  that  troubles  me  worse. 
I  seem  to  fail  in  everything  I  undertake.  At  Mine  Run,  per- 


LYDIA  COMES  AND  GOES  189 

haps,  my  work  was  valuable,  but  in  The  Wilderness  I  was  a 
failure,  and  here  at  Spottsylvania  I  did  no  good.  I  was  hoping 
to  do  something  that  would  help  to  end  the  war,  but  instead,  I 
bring  on  a  big  battle  —  a  drawn  battle  in  which  thousands  fall 
and  no  good  is  done." 

"  But  you  are  wrong.  Did  you  not  know  that  nearly  the 
whole  of  Johnson's  division  fell  into  Hancock's  hands  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Doctor ;  I  know  that.  But  even  this  capture  does  not 
make  up  for  our  losses." 

"  I  think,  Jones,  you  will  see  that  the  morale  of  Lee's  army 
will  weaken.  The  taking  of  that  division  will  make  a  great 
impression." 

"And  you  believe  then  that  I  have  done  some  good  already  ?  " 

"To  your  cause,  as  you  see  it,  yes;  of  course,  you  don't 
expect  me  to  countenance  war." 

General  Meade  sent  for  me  again  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
19th.  He  ordered  me  to  report  to  General  Hancock,  who  had 
need  of  my  services.  About  five  o'clock  I  found  the  head- 
quarters of  the  old  Second  back  behind  the  Ny. 

"  I  am  ordered  to  report  to  you,  General." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Berwick." 

"  Berwick  ?     What  Berwick  ?  " 

"  I  served  you,  sir,  on  the  fifth." 

"  I  remember.  General  Meade  has  told  me  of  your  doings 
since  then.  You  were  in  the  salient  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  While  the  fight  was  going  on  ?  " 

"Part  of  the  time,  General.  Johnson's  division  had  been 
broken  before  I  got  there." 

"  I  can't  understand  at  all  why  our  success  was  not  complete." 

"  The  Confederates  sent  ree'nf orcements,  sir." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  that,  of  course ;  but  why  —  well ;  never 
mind.  I'll  show  you  what  I  want  you  to  do.  By  the  bye,  you 
have  been  hurt,  I  hear." 


190        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  I'm  strong  enough  to  work  now." 

"  Were  you  ever  at  Guiney's  Station  ?  " 

"  Frequently,  sir." 

"  At  Bowling  Green  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  once  only." 

"  How  far  is  it  from  Guiney's  ?  " 

"  Six  miles,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  Milford  ?  " 

"  Not  well,  General.  I  have  passed  by  it  on  trains  several 
times,  but  I've  never  stopped  there." 

"  How  far  is  it  below  Guiney's  ?  " 

"  I  think,  sir,  about  nine  or  ten  miles." 

The  general  called  an  aide,  and  asked  for  a  map. 

"  I  don't  need  the  map,  General,  so  far  as  Guiney's  is  con- 
cerned." 

"Well;  I  want  to  look  at  it  myself.  Go  to  our  left,  Ber- 
wick, and  go  as  far  as  you  can  in  the  direction  of  the  river." 

"  The  Mattapony  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Get  to  Milford  if  you  can.  This  corps  must  be  at 
Milford  to-morrow  noon.  Before  we  reach  the  river  I  shall 
want  to  know  what  is  there." 

"  You  march  to-night,  then,  General  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  we  march  at  eleven  to-night,  but  you  can  precede  us 
by  five  or  six  hours,  and  can  gain  more  on  us,  for  we  shall  not 
move  so  rapidly  as  you,  or  by  such  short  cuts  perhaps." 

"  Will  there  be  any  need  for  me  to  go  near  Guiney's,  Gen- 
eral ?  " 

"No;  choose  your  own  route.  But  we  will  march  by 
Guiney's,  and  when  you  return  you  may  know  that  I  am  on  the 
road  from  Guiney's  to  Milford.  What  help  will  you  want  ?  " 

"  One  man,  General,  mounted ;  the  best  man  you  have." 

"  You  shall  have  him.     Will  you  start  at  once  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  think  I  can  get  to  Milford  by  midnight,  and  get 
out,  perhaps,  before  day." 

"  That  will  do  very  well.     All  you  need  to  learn  is  whether 


LYDIA  COMES  AND  GOES  191 

Lee's  army,  or  any  strong  part  of  it  —  say  a  division  —  has  out- 
stripped us  and  blocked  our  way.  Be  particular  about  this, 
Berwick,  if — you — please.  If  you  find  only  a  regiment  or  two  of 
cavalry,  you  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  learn  what  troops 
they  are  —  but  you  must  learn,  if  you  can,  whether  Lee  has 
got  wind  of  our  movement." 

An  officer  rode  up  in  haste,  very  excited.  "  General  Han- 
cock ! "  he  cried. 

The  general  looked  up.  He  had  been  sitting  on  a  camp-stool 
in  the  open  air. 

"  Swell's  whole  corps  is  across  the  Ny,  and  is  attacking  our 
flank!" 

The  general  called  for  his  horse,  and  mounted,  saying, 
"  Postpone  your  work,  Berwick,  till  further  orders." 

I  did  not  follow  him,  but  rode  back  to  the  Sanitary  Camp. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  stampede  for  a  time,  but  by 
night  everything  had  quieted  down. 

Early  the  next  morning  a  man  rode  up  with  an  order  to 
begin  the  work  General  Hancock  had  outlined. 

"  Do  you  accompany  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Lydia  was  to  start  for  Fredericksburg  by  the  Telegraph 
road,  as  it  seemed  more  secure  than  the  road  at  the  west. 
When  I  should  see  the  dear  girl  again  God  alone  could  know. 
Dr.  Khayme  said  that  in  all  probability  the  base  of  supplies 
would  be  transferred  to  Port  Royal,  and  afterward  to  White 
House,  and  the  headquarters  of  the  medical  department  would 
move  almost  at  once  from  Fredericksburg.  Lydia  would  not 
rejoin  her  father  for  weeks,  perhaps.  The  Army  of  the 
Potomac  had  yet  many  hard  marches  and  much  hard  fighting 
before  it.  The  movement  to  the  left,  which  Hancock's  corps 
was  to  begin,  would  doubtless  cause  Lee  to  put  the  North 
Anna  between  his  army  and  Meade's,  and  then,  nearer  to 
Richmond,  he  would  deliver  his  strongest  battle.  It  was 
rumoured  that  reinforcements  were  arriving  for  Lee.  We 


192        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

had  learned  of  Butler's  repulse  before  Petersburg,  and  of 
Sherman's  march  into  Georgia,  where  Joe  Johnston  was  re- 
treating. Everything  indicated  a  combined  campaign  of  all 
the  armies  under  Grant,  a  campaign  that  ought  to  end  the 
war,  a  campaign  without  a  breathing  spell,  in  order  that  the 
Confederates  should  be  pressed  hard  on  all  their  points  of 
defence  and  have  no  interval  of  time  in  which  one  hand  might 
help  the  other.  The  Doctor  believed  that  the  summer  would 
be  spent,  and  winter  would  come  before  all  that  was  hoped 
for  should  be  accomplished. 

Lydia  was  to  start  for  Fredericksburg  at  four  o'clock.  The 
distance  was  barely  ten  miles ;  her  father's  ambulance  could 
easily  make  it  in  three  hours,  even  over  the  horrible  road, 
unless  the  road  should  be  found  blocked  with  wagon-trains 
or  by  marching  troops.  But  I  felt  some  fear  —  very  little, 
however  —  of  the  Confederates.  On  the  day  before,  Ewell 
had  come  out  of  his  intrenchments,  and  by  a  detour  which 
placed  his  corps  northwest  from  our  lines  had  attacked 
Hancock's  right.  A  Confederate  signal  station  was  at 
Guiney's,  and  cavalry  had  been  reported  on  our  left,  on  the 
north  of  the  Ny.  The  Richmond  and  Fredericksburg  railroad 
was  yet  in  Lee's  possession  as  far  as  Guiney's  Station,  and 
from  Milford,  the  next  place  below  Guiney's,  he  drew  his 
supplies.  An  army  like  Meade's,  in  its  present  position,  is 
always  subject  to  the  depredations  of  an  enterprising  cavalry. 
On  the  night  of  the  16th,  one  of  Hampton's  brigades  was 
reported  in  our  rear.1  Of  course  I  had  no  fear  that  Lydia 
would  be  maltreated  by  Confederate  soldiers.  Even  if  her 
ambulance  should  run  into  one  of  their  brigades,  its  sacred 
character  would  protect  her,  but  I  knew  that  in  the  low  coun- 
try to  the  east  there  were  many  bands  of  plunderers,  who 
sought  to  enrich  themselves  on  booty  taken  from  either  army. 

1  Meade  to  Hancock,  May  19.  "  The  main  road  from  Spottsylvania  Court- 
House  to  Fredericksburg  is  not  considered  safe.  All  messengers  should  be 
sent  by  way  of  Massapouaz  Church." 


LYDIA  COMES  AND   GOES  193 

Bobberies  were  frequent,  and  worse  than  robbery  was  some- 
times done  under  the  guise  of  war.  I  bade  Lydia  good-by 
with  misgiving. 

The  Doctor  had  somehow  procured  for  me  a  short  Enfield, 
into  which  I  had  rammed  some  cold  lead.  Sentiment  caused 
me  to  regret  the  loss  of  my  old  gun,  which,  as  a  Confederate, 
I  had  carried  in  the  Gettysburg  campaign,  yet  I  am  bound  to 
confess  that  I  found  the  short  gun  much  handier,  and  just  as 
serviceable. 

Jeeter  and  I  rode  almost  due  east,  on  a  line  parallel  with 
Burnside's  corps,  the  left  of  which  rested  on  the  Po. 

Two  courses  were  considered:  First,  to  go  down  the  Po 
for  a  few  miles  and  cross  to  the  south  of  the  Mattapony, 
leaving  Jeeter  on  this  side  with  the  horses ;  second,  to  cross 
the  Telegraph  road  above  Bowling  Green  and  ford  the  river 
below  Milford  Bridge,  to  the  left  of  any  force  which  might  be 
in  that  quarter.  I  chose  the  first  of  these  courses,  for  the 
reason  that  the  distance  was  not  nearly  so  great,  and  the 
additional  reason  that  the  Telegraph  road  was  a  much  used 
thoroughfare.  The  country  near  and  far  to  the  east  was 
watched  by  Lee,  who  had  in  operation  a  marvellous  system 
of  getting  information,  and  who  had  already  divined  the  next 
movement  of  his  opponent.  Then,  too,  Sheridan's  cavalry 
were  now  known  to  be  coming  up  to  us  between  the  Matta- 
pony and  the  Pamunkey,1  and  would  no  doubt  draw  Hampton's 
cavalry  toward  Milford,  and  thus  make  entrance  into  the 
Confederate  lines  in  that  quarter  very  difficult.  So  it  seemed 
best  to  cross  the  Mattapony  above  Milford,  and  reach  the 
road  from  that  place  to  Spottsylvania ;  then  I  could  play  the 
straggler  without  hindrance  or  suspicion. 

At  the  Massaponax  road  we  were  stopped  by  our  outposts. 
Jeeter  was  armed  with  an  order  from  General  Hancock,  and 
no  objection  was  made  to  our  going  on. 

1  Grant  to  Ferrero,  May  20.    "Sheridan  is  now  on  his  fourth  day  from 
Richmond,  and  may  be  looked  for  to-day  or  to-morrow."     [E».] 
o 


194        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  But,"  said  the  sergeant  of  the  picket ;  "  how  do  you  expect 
to  get  through  the  swamp  ?  " 

"The  swamp?" 

"  Yes ;  the  swamp  between  the  two  rivers." 

"  Is  it  much  of  a  swamp  ?  " 

"It's  perfectly  impassable.     Go  forward  and  see." 

I  found  that  he  was  right.  Between  the  Po  and  the  Ny  was 
a  great  marsh  where  a  man  could  do  nothing  but  flounder.  So 
we  were  compelled  to  change  our  plan,  and  thought  at  first  of 
following  the  north  bank  of  the  Ny  until  it  united  with  the 
Po,  and  then  crossing,  but  feared  that  a  second  failure  in  con- 
sequence of  some  unforeseen  contingency  would  cause  such  a 
loss  of  time  that  a  third  attempt  would  be  too  late. 

And  now,  hard  riding  was  before  us ;  we  must  make  Milford 
by  going  round  to  the  east.  North  on  the  Telegraph  road  we 
went,  until  we  struck  the  road  to  Guiney's ;  then  southeast 
toward  the  railroad.  Until  we  reached  the  railroad  I  put 
Jeeter  in  advance ;  then  I  dressed  as  a  Confederate  and  took 
the  lead,  for  at  any  moment  we  might  run  upon  the  enemy. 
We  avoided  Guiney's,  going  to  the  north  of  that  station,  and 
not  daring  to  be  seen  on  the  Richmond  road,  we  crossed  it  and 
went  on  east.  It  was  about  two  o'clock,  and  we  were  ten  miles 
or  more  from  Milford,  by  the  roundabout  way  we  must  take. 
Thus  far  we  had  found  no  difficulty ;  we  had  met  a  few  strag- 
glers, and  a  scouting  party  of  our  own  cavalry,  who  demanded 
our  passes,  and  who  warned  us  of  the  danger  we  should  con- 
stantly incur  farther  to  the  south,  but  as  for  the  enemy  we  had 
not  seen  one,  except  at  the  signal  station  near  Guiney's,  which 
we  had  discreetly  flanked.  Now  we  must  avoid  all  roads  except 
mere  bridle-paths,  and  be  always  on  the  watch,  and  take  time 
to  examine  ground  in  front  before  we  should  venture  over  it. 
Had  I  been  afoot  I  could  have  gone  on  without  great  fear ;  as 
it  was,  I  knew  that  I  ought  to  get  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
enemy  and  select  a  spot  for  Jeeter's  night  station,  before  ven- 
turing forward  alone. 


THE   PO 


SCALE  OF  MILES 

•  Guiney's   „     ,  , 

Station     °  -  1       *      8      * 


Lebanon  Church. 


BOWLisa  QREEN 

Milfprd 


LYDIA  COMES  AND  GOES  195 

About  four  o'clock  we  had,  just  ahead  of  us,  a  small  country 
road  crossing  our  line  of  advance.  Jeeter  was  halted,  and  I 
crept  up,  and  looked  south  and  saw  something ;  then  I  looked 
north  and  saw  that  there  was  nothing  in  that  direction.  What 
I  saw  toward  the  south  was  a  group  of  four  persons  —  two  men, 
a  woman,  and  a  girl.  They  were  coming.  At  first,  they  puz- 
zled me.  The  men  and  the  woman  were  burdened  with  many 
things.  The  woman  had  a  great  bundle  of  bed-clothing,  seem- 
ingly. One  of  the  men  had  an  axe,  and  a  frying-pan,  and 
many  other  things;  the  other  man,  somewhat  similarly  loaded, 
was  wearing  a  Federal  overcoat  even  in  this  warm  weather. 
The  mystery  was  soon  cleared  up.  I  saw  that  these  people 
were  black. 

When  they  were  very  near  I  called  to  them  to  come  into  the 
woods  where  I  was.  At  first  they  were  startled,  but  I  assured 
them  that  they  had  nothing  to  fear,  and  they  approached. 
My  gray  clothing  must  have  given  them  an  additional  scare ; 
they  halted  as  soon  as  they  saw  me,  and  showed  alarm.  To 
relieve  them  I  called  Jeeter,  and  asked  the  men  which  they 
preferred. 

One  of  them  said,  "  Dat's  de  man  we  wants,"  pointing  to 
Jeeter. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Fum  Cunnle  Donner's  plantation  down  on  Pole  Cat  Creek." 

"  And  where  is  Pole  Cat  Creek  ?  " 

"  Runs  into  de  Mat'ny." 

"  Which  side  of  the  Mattapony  ?  " 

"  De  yutheh  side,  sah." 

"  Below  Milford  ?  " 

"  Yassah." 

"  How  far  below  Milford  ?  " 

"  'Bout  six  mile,  sah." 

"  Did  you  come  by  Milford  ?  " 

"No,  no,  sah ;  didn't  come  by  Milford.  We  had  to  go  roun* 
Milford." 


196        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"Why?" 

"  Gaze  yo'  folks  is  dah." 

"  My  folks  ?     You  mustn't  think  I'm  a  Confederate." 

«  You  no  'federate  ?  " 

"  No,"  and  I  showed  him  the  blue  under  the  gray. 

He  was  greatly  relieved.  The  men  told  us  that  there  was 
an  infantry  force  at  Milford,  a  regiment  or  two,  but  they  did 
not  know  what  command,  and  that  a  large  body  of  infantry 
were  getting  off  the  cars  at  Penola,  the  station  below. 

"Had  the  troops  at  Milford  been  at  Spottsylvania  in  the 
battles  ?  " 

"  No,  sah ;  dey  is  come  to  he'p  'em  out." 

"  Did  you  see  them  ?  " 

The  other  man  now  spoke  up,  and  said  that  he  saw  some  of 
them  that  were  out  foraging  ;  that  he  knew  they  were  infantry, 
and  that  they  had  reached  Milford  from  Richmond  very  re- 
cently. In  answer  to  my  many  questions  I  learned  that  on 
this  side  of  the  river  there  was  a  regiment  in  rifle-pits,  protect- 
ing the  bridge,  and  that  the  bridge  was  to  be  destroyed  in  case 
of  an  advance  of  Union  troops. 

"  What  crossings  are  below  Milford  ?  " 

"  Cross  de  ribeh  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Foad  down  dah,  'bout  half  a  mile,  but  ribeh  is  up ;  can't 
git  across." 

"  How  did  you  get  across  ?  " 

"Heap  furdeh  down.  Our  own  colour  he  he'p'd  us  wid  a 
skift." 

"  How  can  I  get  to  the  ford  below  Milford  ?  " 

"  Git  in  de  big  road,  an'  you'll  see  de  road  to  de  foad.  Dat 
road,  hit  goes  down  on  Pole  Cat." 

"  Is  it  a  small  road  ?  " 

"  No,  sah ;  good  road ;  but  it  ain't  druv  oveh  now  no  mo' 
gence  de  ribeh  is  up." 

"  How  far  this  side  of  the  rifle-pits  does  the  road  fork  ?  " 


LYDIA  COMES  AND  GOES  197 

"  Not  mo  'n  a  quauteh ;  it's  right  whah  de  big  road  tuhng 
roun'  de  cawndeh  o'  de  fiel'." 

We  were  now  only  some  two  miles  from  Bowling  Green,  at 
the  east  of  that  place,  and  some  four  miles  from  Milford.  We 
let  the  refugees  go  on,  Jeeter  and  I  helping  them  to  a  few 
coins  which  they  received  with  great  joy. 

Now  I  began  to  hope  that  I  could  accomplish  my  purpose 
without  crossing  the  Mattapony.  If  I  could  succeed  in  getting 
within  the  picket-line  on  the  north  side  of  the  river  my  work 
would  be  much  lessened,  and  I  determined  to  go  forward  in 
that  direction  instead  of  continuing  our  course  eastward,  so  we 
diverged  to  our  right,  still  keeping  in  the  woods,  and  moving 
with  more  caution  than  ever.  I  had  no  intention  of  trying  to 
enter  the  lines  before  nightfall,  and  we  yet  had  three  good 
hours  of  daylight.  Jeeter  fully  coincided  with  my  change  of 
policy;  perhaps  one  reason  that  influenced  the  good  fellow 
without  his  knowledge  was  the  fact  that  our  work  would  be 
much  lessened,  and  then  there  was  the  additional  fact  that  he 
was  little  of  a  woodman,  and  found  creeping  through  the 
thickets  not  at  all  to  his  taste. 

Just  at  nightfall  we  could  see  before  us  a  few  camp-fires. 
We  were  now  on  the  main  Richmond  road,  having  gone  around 
Bowling  Green  on  the  east.  We  kept  creeping  forward  in  the 
woods  skirting  the  road  on  its  left,  I  ahead  and  afoot,  and 
Jeeter  following  with  the  horses.  Beyond  the  road  was  a  con- 
siderable field,  extending  southward,  and  I  hoped  that  at  the 
corner  of  this  field  would  be  found  a  branch  road  leading  to  the 
lower  ford,  in  confirmation  of  the  negro's  words.  We  reached 
the  end  of  the  field :  a  road  was  running  southeast  —  a  well- 
used  road,  ordinarily,  but  now  showing  no  recent  wear.  I 
stationed  Jeeter  near  the  spot  with  strict  orders  to  be  on  his 
guard.  The  place  chosen  was  off  in  the  woods,  perhaps  two 
hundred  yards  from  the  junction  of  the  two  roads. 

As  soon  as  it  was  completely  dark  I  went  afoot  down  the 
branch  road,  intending  to  get  to  the  river,  and  then  come  up 


198        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

its  bank,  and  get  into  the  Confederate  lines  from  the  rear,  if 
possible. 

With  little  trouble  I  succeeded  in  reaching  the  river.  I 
could  see  nothing  on  the  farther  side.  The  river  was  swift 
and  full.  At  my  right  I  could  hear  cars  rolling.  I  stood  for 
a  while  and  listened  to  the  rushing  waters.  Somewhere  in  the 
south  a  dog  was  barking.  Noises  came  from  my  right  rear, 
where  no  doubt  Confederates  were  busy  around  their  camp-fires. 
By  this  time  Lydia  must  have  reached  Fredericksburg. 

I  wondered  why  the  branch  road  had  not  been  picketed; 
yet,  of  course,  the  enemy  had  no  reason  to  fear  an  attack  from 
this  direction.  Their  cavalry  were  in  their  front  on  the  main 
road  as  far  as  Guiney's  Station,  if  not  farther,  hovering  around 
the  flank  of  Meade's  army,  and  continually  giving  us  trouble. 
These  troops  had  reached  Milford  but  yesterday.  They  were 
defending  the  bridge;  that  was  their  business,  and  nothing 
else.  I  went  on  up  the  river  bank  very  slowly,  knowing  that 
I  had  all  night  before  me,  and  that  on  the  next  morning  I  should 
have  but  a  short  distance  to  ride  before  I  should  meet  Han- 
cock's corps  advancing.  I  was  glad  that  I  had  not  been  com- 
pelled to  cross  the  river.  On  the  river  bank  the  walking 
was  very  muddy,  as  the  water  was  now  slowly  falling ;  I 
diverged  a  little  to  my  right,  and  soon  reached  a  hill,  from 
which,  by  climbing  a  tree,  I  had  as  good  a  view  of  my  sur- 
roundings as  the  darkness  would  allow.  A  little  to  the  north- 
west were  a  few  camp-fires.  Directly  west,  and  beyond  the 
river  I  supposed,  were  many.  Between  the  two  lights  there 
was  a  great  gap  of  darkness.  By  continuing  up  the  river  I 
should  reach  the  rear  of  the  regiment  in  the  rifle-pits ;  pickets 
might  have  been  posted  merely  on  the  paths  and  road,  and  I 
might  slip  between  them.  So  I  continued  to  creep  on,  and 
found  no  pickets  whatever ;  at  last  I  stood  by  the  side  of  the 
road  —  the  main  road  from  Bowling  Green  to  Milford  —  half 
a  mile  in  the  rear  of  the  rifle-pits,  and  had  yet  seen  no  one. 
In  the  road,  however,  there  was  movement.  I  saw  a  few  men 


LYDIA  COMES  AND  GOES  199 

walking  toward  the  bridge,  and  a  few  walking  up  the  hill 
toward  the  rifle-pits.  I  waited  until  they  had  disappeared  in 
the  darkness,  and  then  walked  into  the  road  and  up  the  hill, 
with  my  rifle  on  my  shoulder,  whistling,  and  walking  fast  in 
order  to  overtake  the  man  ahead  of  me.  I  passed  him  without 
speaking ;  I  soon  overtook  the  next  one. 

"  Did  you  see  that  fellow  back  yonder  ?  "  I  asked. 

"No,"  said  he. 

"  You  must  have  passed  him,"  I  said. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Because  he  is  limping." 

"  I  didn't  notice  it ;  he's  got  a  sore  foot,  I  reckon." 

"  What's  your  company  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  G,"  said  he ;  "  what's  your'n  ?  " 

«  H,"  said  I. 

"That's  Cap'n  Johnson's  company  —  from  Appomattox,  ain't 
it?" 

I  understood  from  this  that  the  regiment  was  from  Virginia. 

I  made  no  reply ;  I  needed  no  stronger  testimony  that  the 
aforesaid  company  was  under  the  said  captain;  yet  that  dis- 
tinguished officer  might  nevertheless  be  absent  from  his  com- 
mand, and  Lieutenant  John  Doe,  or  words  to  that  effect, 
might  now  be  in  charge.1 

"  Wasn't  that  a  hell  of  a  time  we  had  down  at  Walthall  ?" 
asked  the  man. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  I,  without  the  least  knowledge  of  the 
locality  mentioned. 

"  Lee's  had  to  call  for  help,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"  But  we  licked  'em,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  know  how  many  regiments  there  are  on  the  other 
side  ?  "  I  asked. 

1  Mr.  Berwick's  prudence  was  not  wasted.  Captain  Johnson  was  a  pris- 
oner at  the  time,  and  the  company  was  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant 

Elam.    [En.] 


200        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"None  but  the  Eleventh,"  said  he;  "but  more's  coming. 
The  whole  of  Kemper's  brigade  will  be  here  to-night,  they  say ; 
and  Hoke's  whole  division's  down  the  road  a  piece." 

There  were  some  questions  I  wanted  to  ask  of  others  that 
I  could  not  ask  of  this  man.  They  would  have  sounded 
strange  to  him,  coming  from  a  member  of  his  own  regiment; 
I  was  now  willing  to  get  rid  of  him,  but  he  made  an  effort  to 
keep  up. 

"  Do  you  know  how  far  it  is  to  Spottsylvania  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,  about  twelve  miles,  I  reckon,"  said  I;  "twelve  or 
fifteen." 

"  I  expect  we  will  have  to  march  there  to-morrow,"  said  he. 

"Why?"  Tasked. 

"  Because  Lee  is  needing  help  so  bad." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  reckon  the  Yankees  are  needing  help 
about  as  bad  as  he  is.  You  reckon  Beauregard  will  come  ?  " 

"Not  him,"  said  my  friend.  "We  didn't  whip  'em  bad 
enough  for  that,  but  didn't  we  give  'em  scissors  while  it 
lasted  ?  Didn't  we  though  ?  " 

"  I  doubt  very  much  if  we  have  to  march  to  Spottsylvania," 
said  I. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"  Because  some  say  that  Lee's  falling  back  now,  or  getting 
ready  to  fall  back." 

"  Wonder  where  he'll  stop,  then  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Wish  I  could  tell  you,"  said  I. 

We  were  now  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  very  near  the  rifle- 
pits.  The  man  diverged  a  little  in  order  to  go  in  the  direction 
of  Company  G.  I  went  on  alone,  but  soon  halted. 

Just  what  to  do  now  I  did  not  know.  A  man  walking  about 
in  these  lines  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder  might  be  wondered 
at.  The  force  was  too  small  to  justify  such  a  proceeding  as 
a  natural  one.  Had  it  been  a  long  line  of  battle,  composed 
of  brigades  and  divisions,  my  course  would  have  been  simple ; 
I  could  have  mixed  with  any  of  the  men,  and  inquired  for  any 


LYDIA   COMES  AND  GOES  201 

brigade  or  regiment  that  I  should  have  selected  as  mine  for 
the  time  being,  but  to  inquire  for  Company  H  of  this  one  regi- 
ment and  not  start  for  it  at  once  would  be  peculiar.  I  stood 
for  a  short  while  in  the  darkness,  trying  to  think  what  step 
would  be  best  to  take  next.  I  had  already  found  that  but  one 
Virginia  regiment  was  here;  that  there  was  another  one  — 
the  Eleventh  Virginia  probably,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and  that  these  two  regiments  were  part  of  Kemper's  brigade, 
and  that  they  had  come  from  Beauregard's  army  very  recently 
to  reenforce  Lee. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  enough  information  already. 
What  was  the  need  of  knowing  the  name  of  this  particular 
regiment?  I  must  rather  find,  if  possible,  how  strong  it  was. 
So  I  decided  that  I  should  simply  walk  along  its  rear,  and 
endeavour  to  estimate  its  force.  But  while  I  was  thus  think- 
ing I  saw  a  man  approaching;  I  turned  and  walked  slowly 
down  the  hill.  When  he  overtook  me,  I  asked,  "What's 
your  company  ?  " 

"  H,"  said  he. 

"  How  many  men  you  got  ?  " 

"  Forty-five." 

"  That  must  be  the  smallest  company  in  the  regiment." 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  there  is  one  somewhat  smaller ;  Company 
B  is  smaller." 

"  We  must  have  about  five  hundred  men,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  we  have ;  maybe  more  than  that.  Let's 
see ;  we  lost  about  fifty  down  there  between  Petersburg  and 
Richmond,  at  Walthall  Junction,  and  we  have  got  some  re- 
cruits since;  yes,  I  reckon  about  five  hundred.  Where  are 
you  going  ?  " 

"I  thought  I  would  go  across  the  bridge,  if  the  guards  will 
let  me." 

"  What  you  carrying  your  gun  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  like  to  leave  it  behind.  The  company  might 
get  out  on  picket,  or  something,  and  leave  it  there." 


202        A.  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  get  across  the  bridge,"  said  he. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  To  the  commissary's." 

"Where's  that?" 

"  This  side  of  the  bridge." 

"  Brigade  commissary  ?  " 

"  No,  only  the  Eighteenth." 

He  had  given  me  the  name  of  the  regiment ;  I  let  him  go  on. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  ;  my  work  was  practically  done. 
It  is  true  that  in  getting  back  to  Jeeter  I  must  use  as  great 
caution  as  I  had  employed  in  coming,  for  it  would  not  do  at 
all  to  be  detected  in  going  out  of  these  lines.  It  was  not  to  be 
supposed  that  the  right  flank  by  which  I  had  penetrated  to  the 
rear  of  the  rifle-pits  was  not  watched  by  pickets.  If  any  were 
there,  however,  they  must  have  been  very  far  apart,  for  I  had 
crept  between  them  without  their  seeing  me,  and  without  my 
seeing  them.  I  hoped  to  have  as  good  luck  in  getting  out,  but 
I  admitted  to  myself  that  such  luck  would  be  rare.  I  suppose 
I  was  two  hours  in  creeping  down  the  river  bank  half  a  mile, 
for  this  time  I  chose  the  muddy  edge  of  the  water  itself, 
believing  that  under  the  overhanging  trees  I  should  certainly 
find  no  man  on  post  looking  southward  across  his  own  river ; 
whether  this  were  the  case  or  not  I  did  not  learn,  but  I  suc- 
ceeded at  last  in  reaching  Jeeter.  We  took  our  horses  a  little 
farther  into  the  woods,  and  had  alternate  snatches  of  sleep. 


XVIII 

AN    AMBULANCE 

"He  is  composed  and  framed  of  treachery :  — 
And  fled  be  is  upon  this  villany."  —  SHAKESPEABE. 

IT  must  have  been  about  an  hour  before  day  when  we 
started  to  return.  We  had  gone  about  a  mile,  when  I  heard 
a  noise ;  it  seemed  to  come  from  our  side  of  the  road,  and  from 
our  front  —  horses,  I  thought.  Jeeter  also  had  heard  it,  and 
had  stopped  short. 

"  What  is  it,  Jeeter  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Horses,"  he  replied. 

"  Marching  ?  " 

"No,  I  think  not.  Seemed  to  be  kicking.  Guess  they  are 
feeding." 

I  was  very  tired  and  very  sleepy,  and  thought  it  was  get- 
ting time  for  Jeeter  to  do  something,  so  I  asked  him  to  creep 
cautiously  on  and  try  to  learn  what  kind  of  party  we  had 
stumbled  upon. 

If  these  people  were  Confederates,  we  could  easily  get 
around  them  and  go  on  north.  But  suppose  there  was  a 
brigade  or  two,  with  pickets  thrown  out.  We  must  be  care- 
ful. Stuart  was  dead,  but  Hampton  was  no  less  enterprising 
than  Stuart.  Mosby  had  been  recently  reported  north  of 
Fredericksburg ;  these  people  were  not  Mosby's.  An  attack 
on  Fredericksburg,  even,  had  been  feared.  I  hoped  that  Lydia 
would  soon  be  in  a  place  more  secure. 

Jeeter  returned. 

"  Well  ?  "  I  said. 


204        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  I  can't  make  'em  out,"  said  he. 

"  Big  crowd  ?  " 

"No;  only  five,  I  think,  but  there  were  seven  horses.  I 
don't  know  what  to  make  of  'em." 

"  Got  a  fire  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  got  near  enough  to  see  a  little.  I  think  there 
is  an  ambulance,  or  something  like  it." 

An  ambulance  I 

Yet  there  are  many  ambulances  —  many  in  either  army. 

"  Were  the  men  on  guard  ?  " 

"I  couldn't  tell.  I  counted  seven  horses,  and  supposed 
there  must  be  five  men  besides  the  driver." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  talk  ?  " 

"Yes;  bu,  I  couldn't  understand  what  was  said." 

"  Ambulance  in  the  woods,  or  in  the  road  ?  " 

"  In  the  woods.  Everything  in  the  woods,  but  there  is  a 
way  out  to  the  big  road." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  got  into  it.  It  turns  about,  so  that  they  can't  be  seen 
from  the  road." 

"  Jeeter,  those  people  are  Confederates." 

"  I  give  it  up,"  he  said. 

"What  would  a  Federal  ambulance  be  doing  here?  Are 
you  sure  it  is  an  ambulance  ?  " 

"  It  looked  like  it.  What  bothers  me  is  that  any  ambulance, 
Union  or  rebel,  should  be  here  in  the  woods." 

"  Maybe  it's  not  an  ambulance." 

"  What  else  could  it  be  ?  "  asked  Jeeter. 

"  Sure  it's  not  a  wagon  ?  " 

"  It's  not  any  common  wagon.  It  has  a  black  top,  with  cur- 
tains all  down." 

"  How  near  to  it  did  you  get  ?  " 

"  Ten  steps,  I  guess." 

"  Is  it  between  us  and  the  men  ?  H 

"Yes." 


AN  AMBULANCE  205 

"  You  could  not  see  the  men  ?  " 

"No." 

"  And  where  are  the  horses  ?  " 

"All  around  the  ambulance." 

"  Jeeter,  I  must  see  into  this  thing." 

"  See  into  the  ambulance  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  exactly  ;  I  mean  the  whole  affair." 

"  We'd  better  let  those  fellows  alone,  and  get  back  !" 

"  Who  do  you  think  they  are  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  are  bushwhackers,"  said  he. 

"  And  the  wagon  is  for  carrying  off  plunder  ?  " 

"I  think  they  have  captured  one  of  our  ambulances,"  he 
replied  gloomily. 

Jeeter  had  but  given  utterance  to  my  own  fears.  It  seemed 
a  strange  proceeding,  for  a  few  men  with  a  single  ambulance 
or  a  single  wagon  to  halt  in  these  woods  at  night.  It  was 
clear  to  me  that  they  were  not  Federals  ;  our  men  would  be  in 
close  quarters  here,  and  would  hide  far  from  the  road ;  they 
would  not  be  encumbered  with  a  vehicle.  Yet,  if  these  men 
were  Confederates,  why  had  they  not  gone  on,  and  entered 
their  own  picket-line,  only  a  mile  or  two  away,  instead  of  risk- 
ing themselves  out  here  ? 

"  They  may  be  outposts,"  said  I. 

"  What  would  they  want  with  an  ambulance  ?  " 

This  ambulance,  ambulance,  ambulance,  irritated  me. 

"  Can't  we  take  the  whole  party,  Jeeter  ?  " 

"  What  would  General  Hancock  say  ?  " 

"  You  are  right.  We  must  make  our  report.  But  we  have 
plenty  of  time  yet.  I'm  going  forward." 

"  For  what  ?  " 

"  To  find  out  something.  But  I'm  going  to  try  them  from 
the  north." 

We  led  our  horses  in  a  semicircle  through  the  woods  until 
Jeeter  said  he  was  sure  the  party  was  now  south  of  us.  If  we 
must  run  we  should  be  running  in  the  right  direction. 


206        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  Now,  Jeeter,  you  must  look  and  listen  toward  the  north," 
said  I. 

"  Think  there  is  danger  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  these  men  think  there  is  safety  there. 
For  people  outside  their  own  lines  they  are  very  careless. 
Look  out  to  the  north." 

I  left  everything,  gun,  accoutrements,  and  all,  in  his  charge, 
and  crept  south,  along  the  roadside.  It  would  soon  be  day. 
These  men  before  me  would  perhaps  be  awake  now,  and  be 
getting  ready  to  leave.  If  they  were  alert,  as  men  in  such 
danger  should  be,  they  would  leave  before  I  could  see  their 
camp — and  see  the  ambulance;  yet  everything  thus  far  had 
indicated  a  sense  of  perfect  security  on  their  part ;  no  doubt 
they  considered  themselves  already  within  the  Confederate 
lines  ;  possibly  there  was  a  Confederate  force  of  cavalry  even 
now  between  them  and  Bowling  Green;  this  would  explain 
their  seeming  lack  of  caution. 

Before  I  had  gone  three  hundred  yards  I  heard  again  the 
noises  made  by  restless  horses,  seemingly  very  near  me,  and 
suddenly  ceasing.  I  got  on  my  hands  and  knees,  and  con- 
tinued to  advance.  The  night  was  not  very  dark;  I  could 
see  the  trees  distinctly,  and  choose  my  line  of  approach. 
Jeeter  had  said  that  the  men  were  near  the  road,  and  that 
the  horses  were  near  the  ..."  ambulance."  I  deflected 
so  that  I  should  go  to  the  left  of  the  men.  On  hands 
and  knees,  and  even  almost  prostrate,  I  went  forward  inch 
by  inch. 

Now  my  head  was  almost  touching  the  ground.  Some  fallen 
and  rotting  timber  lay  scattered  here  and  there  ;  the  standing 
trees  were  not  so  close  together  as  to  prevent  vision,  but  there 
were  a  few  scraggy  bushes  not  more  than  two  feet  tall.  I  saw 
black  objects  among  the  trees  before  me. 

A  little  farther,  and  I  knew  that  the  largest  of  the  objects 
was  an  ambulance.  But  what  ambulance  ?  I  knew  that  it 
was  Dr.  Khayme's  ambulance. 


AN   AMBULANCE  207 

My  swimming  head  went  round  and  round  through  fear. 
Had  these  men  taken  only  the  ambulance?  Where  was 
Lydia  ? 

And  now  I  heard  the  heavy  footfalls  of  a  galloping  horse 
behind  me  up  the  road.  Had  Jeeter  gone  ?  No ;  the  sounds 
grew  and  grew,  and  kept  coming  nearer,  and  a  man  rode  up 
and  shouted,  "  Captain !  " 

"  Come !  "  answered  a  voice  near  me. 

"  Cavalry  and  infantry  are  advancing ! " 

"  Then  look  to  see  a  troublous  world !  " 

Do  you  know  that  my  first  impulse  was  to  rise  and  go  for- 
ward ?  Yet  fear  had  sickened  me,  and  I  hesitated.  More- 
over, I  knew  that  the  first  speaker  was  a  Southerner. 

"A  whole  corps.  Our  signal  station  at  Guiney's  is  in 
danger." 

Telling  this  to  Scranton  ?     What  was  Scranton  ? 

" '  Who  hath  descried  the  number  of  the  foe  ? ' " 

"What's  that?" 

"  Who  says  there  is  a  whole  corps  ?  " 

"  I  say  so ;   I  saw  ;em  myself.     Nobody  between  us  now." 

I  was  slipping  away.  I  must  act  quickly ;  I  must  get  away 
quickly,  or  I  should  not  be  able  to  act ;  in  a  few  minutes  there 
would  be  light  too  dangerous.  Yet,  as  I  was  going,  I  heard 
Scranton  say,  "  How  far  away  is  this  horde  ?  "  and  the  courier 
replied,  "  Five  miles  yet." 

As  soon  as  I  felt  safe,  I  rose  and  ran  as  hard  as  I  could  go 
back  to  Jeeter. 

"  Jeeter,"  I  panted ;  "  get  on  your  horse  and  ride  as  fast  as 
he  can  go  up  the  road.  You  will  meet  our  cavalry.  Make 
them  understand  that  they  can  capture  this  party  easily,  if 
they  will ;  your  coming  up  the  road  and  showing  them  that  it 
is  clear  will  make  them  ride  hard." 

"  But  suppose  I  get  caught." 

"  Didn't  you  hear  that  man  ride  by  ?  " 

"Yes." 


208        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"I  heard  him  tell  those  men  that  there  was  nobody  out 
between  them  and  the  corps  coming  on  the  road." 

This  speech  gave  Jeeter  wings.     He  was  mounting. 

"  I  may  not  be  just  in  this  spot  when  you  get  back,"  I  said 
to  him ;  "  I'll  look  round  to  see  what  can  be  seen." 

He  looked  at  me  as  one  looks  at  what  he  thinks  is  peculiar ; 
it  was  now  between  dawn  and  sunrise. 

"  Don't  make  any  noise  at  first ;  go  slow  till  you're  out  of 
hearing,  and  then  go  like  the  wind.  I'll  give  you  a  hundred 
dollars  if  we  catch  those  men.  Keep  in  the  woods  till  you 
strike  a  bend  in  the  road." 

Jeeter  left  me;  I  led  my  horse  farther  into  the  forest. 
Would  the  men  leave  at  once  ?  I  thought  not.  Five  miles  is 
a  long  distance  in  a  hostile  country  for  cavalry  to  feel  their  way. 

Would  Scranton  put  out  no  outpost  ?  With  this  question  I 
stopped,  and  tied  my  horse ;  then  I  crept  back  to  the  road  and 
watched.  There  was  no  need  for  haste ;  possibly  the  runner 
who  had  brought  the  news  would  be  sent  back  on  the  road,  but 
not  until  he  should  have  fed  his  horse  and  got  his  breakfast. 

The  sun  was  rising.  Where  would  Jeeter  meet  our  men  ? 
How  long  would  they  be  in  coming  ?  Did  the  runner's  five 
miles  mean  five  miles  ?  If  our  men  were  five  miles  from  this 
spot  when  he  last  saw  them,  they  were  less  than  that  now. 
Jeeter  might  meet  them  in  four  miles  —  in  three.  How  long 
would  it  take  picked  men  to  ride  four  miles  ?  Half  an  hour. 
Less.  In  half  an  hour  after  Jeeter  reached  them  our  men 
might  be  here  on  the  spot. 

A  horseman  comes  slowly  up  the  road.  I  watch  him.  Dis- 
tinctly he  is  a  rebel  —  no ;  he  is  not  a  Confederate.  He  puzzles 
me.  He  is  dressed  partly  as  a  Confederate,  but  he  looks  like 
a  —  ah !  I  know  now ;  he  is  one  of  those  very  men  who  tried 
to  stop  me  —  with  Scranton  —  near  Culpeper.  I  see  the 
whole  thing !  Scranton  is  a  renegade,  and  was  then  in  collu- 
sion with  these  men.  He  wanted  to  put  me  out  of  his  way  — 
on  Lydia's  account.  Is  Lydia  now  in  his  power  ? 


AN  AMBULANCE  209 

The  man  slowly  rode  on  by.  I  judged  that  he  was  going 
forward  as  a  vedette.  I  followed,  keeping  in  the  bushes,  but 
I  did  not  follow  far ;  I  saw  him  stop,  and  take  his  stand  at  the 
bend  in  the  road,  sitting  on  his  horse  and  facing  north. 

I  went  back  to  my  horse ;  then  I  moved  slowly  around  to 
the  east,  south,  and  southeast,  until  I  thought  the  ambulance 
was  toward  the  north.  I  reached  a  large  tree  some  eighty 
yards  from  the  camp-fire ;  there  was  cooking  going  on,  and  I 
could  hear  the  voices  of  the  men  at  their  work.  The  space 
was  too  open  for  me  to  get  nearer  than  this  tree.  The  ambu- 
lance now  was  at  a  little  greater  distance  from  the  men,  and  its 
front  was  toward  me,  but  I  could  not  see  into  it.  The  horses 
were  feeding.  There  were  seven  horses,  all  feeding.  One  of 
the  horses  was  a  handsome  long-limbed  sorrel — a  superb  animal. 
I  saw  Scherzer  ;  he  was  reclining  at  the  root  of  a  tree  —  doing 
nothing.  His  clothing  was  not  that  of  a  soldier.  I  saw  Scran- 
ton';  his  clothing  was  of  no  regular  fashion  —  half  civilian's, 
half  uniform.  I  saw  him  take  food  and  carry  it  to  the  ambu- 
lance, and  come  away  with  it  again. 

And  now  I  did  a  thing  which  you  will  say  was  impossible. 
I  was  sure  that  Lydia  was  in  the  ambulance.  Never  before  or 
since  have  I  had  such  restlessness.  I  would  have  given  every- 
thing on  earth  to  be  able  to  tell  Lydia  that  help  was  near.  I 
felt  it  beyond  my  power  to  leave  the  spot,  yet  I  left  it.  I 
backed  away  from  the  place,  and  went  to  my  horse  again. 
I  had  determined  to  capture  the  outpost. 

I  felt  sure  that  before  Scranton  moved  from  this  place  he 
would  call  in  this  man.  Therefore,  until  I  should  see  a  relief, 
or  a  messenger  coming  for  this  vedette,  I  had  little  fear  that 
the  renegades  would  leave.  The  sun  was  an  hour  high.  If 
my  hopes  were  to  be  met,  our  cavalry  would  soon  be  here.  I 
would  get  in  rear  of  the  outpost,  and  frighten  him  into  sur- 
rendering ;  then  all  the  men  behind  me  might  be  easily  taken. 
I  mounted,  and  with  the  Enfield  in  my  lap  I  started  northward 
on  the  road.  I  could  see  the  man  sitting  on  his  horse  some 


210        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTEKSIGN 

three  hundred  yards  before  me.  Now  the  thought  came  to  me, 
that  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  let  him  alone;  I  would 
simply  take  my  stand  in  his  rear  and  wait  until  he  should  be 
alarmed  in  his  front;  then  as  he  was  riding  back  he  would 
find  himself  caught  between  two  fires,  and  would  surrender ; 
if  I  should  go  forward  and  endeavour  to  take  him  I  might  be 
too  early.  It  would  be  hard  to  keep  him  long ;  our  cavalry 
might  be  delayed.  So  when  I  was  within  two  hundred  yards 
I  halted  ;  I  was  in  his  rear,  sitting  on  my  horse  just  as  he  was, 
and  looking  north  just  as  he  was  looking  north.  Something, 
however,  caused  him  to  turn,  and  he  saw  me.  He  waved  his 
hand,  beckoning  to  me  to  come  up.  Perhaps  at  the  distance 
he  could  not  tell  me  from  one  of  his  comrades.  I  moved  on  a 
few  yards,  as  if  in  compliance  with  his  wish,  and  halted  again. 
He  now  shouted  to  me  to  come  on,  but  I  did  not  move.  He 
made  violent  gestures,  meaning  to  say  I  know  not  what  —  per- 
haps anger,  or  disgust  at  my  apparent  lack  of  common  sense, 
and  turned  again  and  looked  north.  A  minute  was  precious. 
Horsemen  can  ride  far  in  a  minute.  Perhaps  Scranton's  party 
were  now  saddling  their  horses.  Perhaps  Jeeter  with  help 
was  now  within  a  mile  —  within  half  a  mile.  The  minutes 
were  long ;  but  minutes  pass. 

I  heard  a  noise  behind  me.  I  turned  my  head ;  a  horseman 
was  coming  —  doubtless  the  relief,  or  a  man  sent  to  call  in  the 
outpost.  I  turned  again  and  looked  north.  I  saw  the  outpost 
riding  hurriedly  back.  I  was  caught  between  the  two. 

What  had  made  the  sentinel  turn  and  flee  ?  He  had  not 
waited  to  be  relieved;  he  had  not  waited  to  be  told  to  leave  his 
post.  He  was  leaving  his  post  because  he  saw  the  Federal 
cavalry.  He  was  riding  hard.  His  hand  was  in  the  air,  and 
he  was  shouting  to  me  and  to  the  man  in  my  rear  to  turn.  I 
rode  forward. 

Again  I  halted.  I  raised  my  rifle  to  my  shoulder  and  took 
aim  at  the  man  advancing  toward  me,  and  called  to  him  to  halt. 
He  did  not  stop ;  he  came  right  on.  I  could  see  behind  him  a 


AN  AMBULANCE  211 

group  of  horsemen  spurring  hard.  The  man  swerved  and  passed 
me,  bending  low  on  the  neck  of  his  horse.  I  turned  to  pursue. 
The  momentum  of  the  horses  behind  me  placed  them  at  my 
side ;  Jeeter  was  at  the  front.  Down  the  road  we  went,  pur- 
suers and  pursued,  the  two  fugitives  shouting  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  doubtless  telling  their  comrades  to  run ;  and  now 
Scranton  and  his  men  appeared  in  the  road,  and  at  once  gal- 
loped south,  the  long  sorrel  leading,  with  Scherzer  on  his  back, 
the  ambulance  rocking  from  side  to  side  in  its  headlong  flight. 

From  this  spot  to  the  post  of  the  Eighteenth  Virginia,  it  was 
about  a  mile  and  a  half.  Would  the  scoundrels  escape  ?  I 
was  now  ahead  of  Jeeter,  the  men  having  ridden  hard  while 
my  horse  was  fresh.  Half  a  mile  of  the  road  was  passed  over. 
I  was  gaining.  The  field  to  the  right  was  reached.  I  was 
gaining  rapidly  for  the  horsemen  ahead  abated  their  speed  be- 
cause of  the  ambulance.  The  sun  was  two  hours  high.  We 
were  in  sight  of  the  intrenchments.  A  few  minutes  more  and 
Scranton  would  be  safe,  and  Lydia  would  be  lost.  I  urged  my 
horse  to  his  greatest  speed.  It  was  death  or  worse.  I  was 
within  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the  ambulance.  Another 
hundred  yards,  and  it  would  be  in  range  of  the  rifles  of  the 
Eighteenth  Virginia.  But  at  the  corner  of  the  field  I  was 
amazed  to  see  it  turn  to  the  left,  and  as  it  turned  I  could  see 
the  horses  that  drew  it  galloping  madly  down  the  hill.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  was  the  impassable  water.  Did  Scranton 
know  it  ?  I  shouted  "  Scranton !  Scranton ! "  but  there  was  no 
pause,  no  hesitation ;  always  the  wheels  turned,  and  the  horses 
galloped,  and  the  ambulance  went  down  the  hill  toward  the 
water. 

But  the  renegades  —  beginning  with  Scherzer  —  began  to 
scatter ;  first  one,  then  another  left  the  road,  and  darted  into 
the  bushes,  until  Scranton  alone  was  left,  but  the  ambulance 
rolled  on,  and  Scranton  held  by  it.  Now  our  whole  party  was 
gaining  ground,  and  some  of  them  began  to  fire  regardless  of 
my  cries.  The  water  was  before  us,  and  I  felt  already  the 


212        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

joy  of  success.  No  man  would  be  so  insane  as  to  attempt  to 
drive  into  that  rushing  torrent ;  yet  on  went  the  ambulance, 
and  on  went  Scranton,  and  on  went  his  pursuers,  shouting  to 
him  to  stop  and  surrender.  Once  he  turned  and  shook  his  fist 
in  scorn. 

Would  he  dare  plunge  in  ?  It  was  his  only  chance.  Was 
he  so  desperate  as  to  urge  the  teamster  on?  He  could  not. 
No  man  would  obey  such  an  order. 

The  fire  of  small  arms  was  heard  at  our  right  rear.  One  of 
Torbert's  regiments  had  kept  upon  the  main  road,  and  was 
under  fire  from  the  Eighteenth  Virginia.  Now  I  saw  that 
the  driver  was  doing  his  utmost  to  stop  before  the  water  should 
be  reached,  for  there  was  a  steep  slope  before  him.  I  was 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  ambulance. 

The  ambulance  stopped,  and  I  was  by  its  side,  and  a  dozen 
horsemen.  I  tore  a  curtain  and  looked  in. 

Lydia  was  safe  and  unharmed. 

We  were  on  the  brink  of  the  river.  A  horse  was  buffeting 
the  waters.  The  rider  was  bending  low.  A  shot  was  fired, 
and  a  dozen  shots.  Scranton  slipped  from  his  horse ;  he  held 
on  with  one  hand  to  his  saddle,  with  only  his  head  above  the 
water.  The  men  loaded  and  fired.  The  horse  turned  over. 

The  river  swept  on  uncumbered. 

***#*## 

Jeeter  claimed  his  hundred  dollars.  Dr.  Khayme  made 
it  a  thousand. 


XIX 

JERICHO 

"  He  treads  painfully  with  stillest  step 
And  beady  brow,  pressed  'neath  the  weight  of  arms." 

—  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

LTDIA  had  been  delayed  by  the  bad  road,  and  by  many 
wagons  stalled  in  the  mud.  As  night  approached,  three  miles 
only  from  the  outskirts  of  Fredericksburg,  the  ambulance  was 
halted  by  mounted  men,  and  turned  southward.  The  driver's 
escape  was,  no  doubt,  connived  at.  Lydia  had  recognized 
Scranton  almost  at  once,  but  it  was  hours  before  she  knew  that 
he  had  purposely  waylaid  her.  Yet  she  had  suffered  no  insult ; 
Scranton  had  given  orders  in  her  hearing  that  no  man  should 
speak  a  word  to  her.  It  was  not  until  morning  that  she  saw 
that  the  men  were  seeming  Confederates;  then  she  feared 
injury.  There  was  talk  of  booty  among  the  men,  which 
opened  her  eyes  to  the  fact  that  this  was  a  party  of  bush- 
whackers. She  soon  learned  that  Scranton's  motive  was  not 
mercenary;  his  conduct  had  been  respectful,  yet  she  had 
feared  the  future.  She  said  ever  after  that  Scranton  was  a 
man  not  wholly  bad  —  yielding  to  impulse,  only  to  repent,  and 
to  yield  again. 

And  now,  Scranton  dead,  the  mystery  of  Dr.  Khayme's 
words  weighed  upon  me  more  than  ever.  The  great  work 
which  I  was  to  do  ...  had  it  already  been  done  in  the  destruc- 
tion of  this  man  ?  I  could  not  believe  it.  Of  what  importance 
could  Scranton  have  been  ?  .  .  .  Yet  Scherzer  had  escaped ! 

213 


214        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

What  if  Scherzer  himself  was  important  ?  His  unguarded  use 
of  good  English  meant  not  only  deceit,  but  also  education  — 
perhaps  prominence. 

Hardly  had  I  heard  my  Lydia's  story,  and  seen  that  she  was 
furnished  with  a  strong  escort  back  to  Fredericksburg,  before 
I  was  ordered  to  report  to  General  Warren.  It  was  afternoon 
when  I  found  him. 

"  Do  you  know  the  North  Anna  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  a  little." 

"  Where  ?    At  what  points  ?  " 

"  I  have  crossed  it,  General,  near  Hanover  Junction  and 
above  that  point." 

"  How  far  above  ?  " 

"  At  Anderson's  Bridge,  sir,  and  at  Jericho." 

"  Jericho  Bridge  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  Jericho  Mills." 

"  Look  here  at  this  map.     This  has  Jericho  Bridge." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  see  ;  but  the  map  is  wrong." 

"  There  is  no  bridge  there  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  it  has  been  built  since  I  was  there,  sir." 

"  Is  the  river  f  ordable  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  Berwick,  I  shall  want  to  know  what  force  of  the 
enemy  will  be  in  my  front  when  I  reach  the  North  Anna  at 
Jericho  Mills." 

"  When  will  that  be,  General  ?  " 

"My  head  of  column  will  be  near  the  river  by  midday  of 
the  twenty-third  —  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  I  must  start  at  once,  General." 

"  Very  well ;  the  sooner  the  better.  I  shall  expect  you  to 
report  to  me  before  I  reach  the  ford." 

"It  might  be  better,  sir,  to  give  me  a  little  discretion.  Sup- 
pose the  ford  is  not  defended ;  in  that  case,  would  there  be  any 
need  to  report  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 


JERICHO  215 

"  Ought  I  not  to  follow  the  enemy  and  see  where  they  make 
a  stand?" 

"Berwick,  you  are  right,  undoubtedly.  Go  ahead,  and  do 
the  thing  as  you  see  fit.  Do  you  want  help  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General ;  I  want  a  dozen  cavalrymen  —  good  men." 

"  By  what  roads  will  you  go  ?  " 

"I  suppose,  General,  that  the  movement  of  our  army  is 
expected  to  cause  a  corresponding  movement  on  Mahs  Robert's 
part  ?  " 

General  Warren  laughed:  "That  'Mahs  Robert'  of  yours 
is  good,  Berwick.  You  would  deceive  the  very  elect.  Yes ; 
of  course ;  Lee  will  retire,  unfortunately." 

"You  expect  him  to  fall  back  behind  the  North  Anna?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  His  most  direct  way  is  by  the  Telegraph  road,  sir ;  I  must 
go  to  the  west  of  that  road,  and  get  through  Chilesburg,  and 
cross  the  river,  if  need  be,  above  Jericho." 

"I  think  you  are  right,"  said  General  Warren;  "if  you 
move  on  the  Telegraph  road,  you  will  be  always  bothered  with 
marching  troops,  and  you  might  not  be  able  to  get  away  from 
them  when  you  wanted  to  go  up  to  Jericho." 

"  General,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall  send  you  reports  of  what  I 
learn,  but  you  must  not  be  surprised  if  you  don't  see  me  for 
some  days.  If  possible,  after  I  send  back  the  men  whom  you 
give  me,  I  shall  go  into  Lee's  new  lines." 

"  All  right,  Berwick ;  a  good  idea ;  in  fact,  but  for  fear  of 
( riding  a  free  horse  to  death/  I  should  have  asked  you  to  do 
that." 

From  Guiney's  Bridge,  where  I  had  found  General  Warren, 
the  squad  rode  to  Lebanon  Church,  some  seven  or  eight  miles 
to  the  southwest.  At  this  place  there  was  an  outpost  of  Union 
cavalry.  It  was  now  night.  Less  than  a  mile  to  the  west  was 
the  Telegraph  road,  running  south  to  Hanover  Junction.  The 
noise  of  marching  troops  had  been  plainly  heard,  going  south 
on  the  Telegraph  road. 


216        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

At  ten  o'clock  we  rode  on  forward,  and  when  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  the  Telegraph  road,  we  dismounted,  and  led 
our  horses  through  the  woods.  Shouts  of  teamsters  came  from 
the  road. 

I  wanted  to  go  on  to  Bethany  Church.  There  we  should 
find  the  road  which  runs  southwest  through  Chilesburg,  and  on 
to  the  North  Anna  at  Anderson's  Bridge.  The  shouts  of  the 
teamsters  caused  me  to  believe  that  there  would  be  little  risk 
in  riding  boldly  on  across  the  Telegraph  road,  for  evidently 
there  was  a  wagon-train  now  on  that  road,  and  it  would  be 
no  point  of  duty  on  the  part  of  any  teamster  to  inquire  con- 
cerning me ;  besides,  my  condition  nearly  approached  indiffer- 
ence when  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy ;  I  felt  more  at  home  with 
Confederate  infantry  than  with  our  own  —  I  had  marched  in  the 
ranks  of  the  Eleventh  Massachusetts  not  fifty  miles ;  with  the 
Carolinians  a  thousand. 

Again  we  mounted,  and  made  straight  for  the  road.  I  found 
it  blocked  with  wagons.  There  was  a  full  moon.  As  far  as 
I  could  see  up  and  down  the  road,  there  was  nothing  but 
wagons,  all  at  a  dead  halt,  waiting  for  movement  ahead.  Just 
where  my  road  crossed,  a  team  was  pressed  close  to  the  wagon 
next  in  front,  so  that  I  saw  no  way  to  pass. 

I  halted  the  party  and  spoke  to  the  men  in  low  tones. 

"  Get  into  groups  of  four.  Make  three  groups,  front,  centre, 
and  rear." 

The  men  obeyed. 

"  Now,  men,  remain  here  five  minutes ;  when  I  return,  the 
first  group  will  ride  to  General  Warren ;  the  others  will  follow 
me." 

I  went  southward,  along  the  edge  of  the  road,  rapidly  passing 
the  wagons.  After  a  minute  I  shouted  to  a  teamster,  "  What 
troops  are  ahead  ?  " 

"  Ewell's  corps,"  he  replied. 

I  rode  on  two  hundred  yards. 

"  What  troops  are  ahead  ?  " 


JERICHO  217 

"  Ewell's,"  came  the  reply. 

I  rode  back. 

"  Front  group,  come  here.  .  .  .  Now  go.  Say  that  Ewell's 
corps  has  passed,  marching  southward  on  the  Telegraph  road ; 
that  a  long  wagon-train  is  behind  Ewell,  and  that  we  shall 
soon  find  out  more."  This  order  was  given  in  a  whisper. 

The  four  men  rode  east. 

With  eight  men  I  turned  northward  and  kept  by  the  side  of 
the  road  for  half  a  mile  until  a  passage  was  found  between  two 
teams. 

Now  I  shouted  boldly  and  loud  to  a  teamster :  — 

"  What  troops  are  behind  your  train  ?  " 

"  Longstreet's  corps,"  was  the  reply. 

The  centre  group  was  at  once  ordered  by  signal  to  return  to 
General  Warren.  Five  of  us  crossed  the  road. 

On  the  west  side  of  the  road  was  a  field ;  we  continued  north 
and  turned  west  into  a  wood.  Beyond  the  field  I  led  toward 
the  south,  and  soon  struck  my  road  to  Bethany  Church.  After 
going  half  a  mile,  sounds  came  from  the  front.  The  noise 
increased,  and  I  led  the  men  aside,  into  the  woods.  A  party 
of  cavalry  —  Confederates,  I  knew  very  well  —  rode  by,  going 
east.  Now  I  had  little  fear  of  being  molested,  or  even  ques- 
tioned ;  without  counting  the  wagon-train  this  party  of  cavalry 
had  put  us  within  the  Confederate  lines.  So  we  rode  on  un- 
troubled to  Bethany  Church,  some  two  miles  farther  westward, 
and  at  the  cross-roads  turned  south. 

It  was  now  about  midnight,  and  I  was  yet  some  fifteen  miles 
from  Jericho  Mills,  for  the  road  before  me  made  an  angle  at 
Chilesburg  ;  so  we  went  into  a  wood  near  the  roadside,  tied  our 
bridles  to  the  limbs  of  trees,  and  lay  down  to  snatch  a  few 
hours'  sleep,  leaving  one  man  on  watch.  But  I  did  not  sleep. 
Lying  on  the  earth  I  could  hear  the  sounds  of  great  movements, 
evidently  coming  from  the  north.  I  rose  and  hastily  went  into 
the  road,  where  I  again  lay  flat,  putting  my  ear  to  the  solid 
ground.  The  rumour  was  now  distinct ;  clearly  a  great  body 


218        A  FRIEND   WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

of  troops  was  marching  southward,  and  would  soon  be  at  hand. 
I  was  about  to  rise,  in  order  to  get  my  men  and  pursue  my 
southward  course  before  the  column  should  reach  us,  when  the 
noises  ceased.  I  waited  awhile,  but  the  silence  remained 
unbroken ;  I  judged  that  the  troops  had  halted  for  the  night. 

It  was  best,  I  thought,  to  put  a  mile  or  two  more  between  us 
and  the  Confederate  column,  so  we  moved  southward  again, 
and  about  one  o'clock  found  a  good  spot  in  a  thicket  east  of 
the  road  and  halted ;  this  time  I  slept. 

When  I  awoke  the  sun  had  risen.  Noises  came  from  the 
road  some  two  hundred  yards  from  us.  I  crept  up  until  I 
could  see  the  road;  it  was  full  of  cavalry  marching  slowly 
southward,  so  slowly  that  I  thought  this  body  of  troops  merely 
a  squadron  or  two  in  advance  of  an  infantry  column ;  I  waited 
and  soon  saw  that  my  conjecture  was  right,  for  the  cavalry 
passed,  and  after  an  interval  of  a  few  hundred  yards  —  which 
was  not  indeed  an  interval,  but  a  space  occupied  by  a  full  bat- 
tery of  six  brass  pieces  with  their  caissons  —  there  came  into 
view  a  group  of  horsemen,  which  I  readily  saw  was  the  staff 
of  some  general  officer,  and  a  long  infantry  column  behind, 
marching  at  the  route  step. 

My  glass  was  in  my  haversack ;  I  took  it  out,  and  saw,  in 
the  midst  of  the  group  of  horsemen,  a  face  and  a  figure  that  I 
could  not  fail  to  recognize.  General  A.  P.  Hill  was  riding  at 
the  head  of  his  corps,  his  brown  beard  touching  his  breast,  as 
with  head  bent,  he  slowly  moved  forward.  Traces  of  his  re- 
cent illness  were  clearly  discernible ;  ordinarily  alert,  he  now 
seemed  different,  and  I  felt  sympathy  for  this  proud  spirit  who 
for  more  than  ten  days  had  chafed  under  the  restraint  of  illness 
while  his  great  troops  endured,  with  another  leader,  the  storm 
of  many  battles.  I  had  not  seen  the  general  in  seven  months 
—  but  whoever  had  once  seen  Hill  could  never  forget  him. 

The  lieutenant-general  and  his  staff  had  passed,  and  the  regi- 
ments of  the  corps  were  filing  on.  I  rose  and  went  back  to 
my  men. 


JERICHO  219 

I  took  the  Enfield,  and  a  rolled  blanket ;  my  cartridge-box, 
haversack,  and  canteen  completed  my  equipment ;  I  was  al- 
ready dressed  as  a  Confederate. 

The  four  men  were  ordered  to  return  to  General  Warren 
with  the  report  that  the  head  of  the  Light  corps  had  passed 
Bethany  Church  two  miles  and  was  marching  southward  — 
that  A.  P.  Hill  himself  was  in  command.  The  men  were 
instructed  to  ride  rapidly,  for  I  judged  that  on  the  Telegraph 
road  our  own  cavalry  were  now  following  Longstreet.  The 
four  men  rode  east,  one  of  them  leading  my  horse ;  I  walked 
south. 

By  the  side  of  the  road  I  could  see  a  few  stragglers  —  men 
not  broken  down,  but  permitted  to  walk  out  of  ranks  because 
of  slight  indisposition.  I  went  toward  the  road  at  an  angle  — 
approaching  it  very  gradually,  so  that  when  I  reached  its  edge 
I  should  not  appear  to  come  suddenly  from  the  depths  of  the 
forest.  The  morning  sun  was  hot,  and  the  dust  was  thick  in 
the  road ;  the  long  column  was  scattered  wide,  the  middle  of 
the  way  being  rejected  wherever  the  sides  presented  ground 
less  dusty.  The  men  were  marching  stolidly  on  —  saying 
little,  their  heads  hanging,  their  backs  bent,  their  rifles  on  their 
shoulders,  squirrel-hunting  fashion.  Occasionally  a  sergeant 
would  call  out,  "Close  up  !  " 

The  rule  on  a  march  was  to  make  two  miles  in  fifty  minutes 
—  then  to  rest  ten  minutes.  While  the  troops  were  marching 
I  went  more  slowly  than  they,  preserving  the  honourable  char- 
acter of  a  straggler ;  when  they  rested  I  kept  on,  for  I  knew 
that  Wilcox's  division  was  behind  me,  and  I  did  not  wish  to 
be  overtaken  by  McGowan's  brigade. 

About  ten  o'clock  I  followed  a  straggling  line  of  men  —  about 
a  dozen  or  so  —  off  to  a  house  on  the  right  where  at  the  well 
in  the  yard  an  eager  crowd  were  busy.  A  man  passed  me 
loaded  with  six  or  seven  canteens ;  he  was  walking  very  rap- 
idly. I  saw  that  he  would  be  ahead  of  me,  for  in  filling  can- 
teens at  a  well  it  is  "  first  come  first  served." 


220        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTEKSIGN 

"  Say,  pardner,  take  my  canteen  too,  and  I'll  draw  the 
water." 

"That's  talkin', "  says  he ;  "  hand  it  here." 

We  walked  on. 

"  Got  any  tobacco  ?  "  he  asks. 

I  cut  off  a  big  chew  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  What  you  belong  ?  " 

"  McGowan's." 

"  I  knowed  you  didn't  belong  to  the  Fifty-fifth." 

"What  fifty-fifth?" 

"No'th  Ca'lina." 

"  Is  that  your  regiment  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Davis's  brigade  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  used  to  know  a  man  in  your  regiment." 

"  Which 'un?" 

"  A  man  named  Saddler." 

"  Poor  Bill !  He  was  as  good  a  man  as  ever  trod  shoe- 
leather." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he's  dead  ?  " 

"  Killed  on  the  twelfth !     You  say  you  knowed  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  with  him  on  the  tenth  at  Spottsylvania.  We  stuck 
together  a  good  part  of  the  night.  I'm  mighty  sorry  to  hear 
he's  gone." 

"  How  come  you  so  fur  ahead  o'  your  regiment  ?  " 

"  Got  permission  to  march  out  o'  ranks.  I  don't  want  'em 
to  ketch  up  wi'  me  till  night." 

We  had  reached  the  well  and  were  waiting  our  turn. 

"  Was  you  in  that  battle  on  the  twelfth  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  see  this  mark  ?  "  I  took  off  my  hat  and  showed  him 
a  blue  spot  on  my  forehead. 

"What  done  that?" 

"Tree  fell  on  me." 

"  What's  your  name  ?" 


JERICHO  221 

"  Jones  —  First  South  Carolina." 

"  Mine's  Carroll ;  say  —  now's  our  time." 

I  took  the  rope,  at  either  end  of  which  was  a  bucket,  and  we 
soon  had  the  canteens  filled. 

"  I'll  tote  half  of  'em,"  said  I. 

"All  right,"  says  Carroll;  "much  obleeged.     Come  ahead." 

And  now  Carroll,  with  his  long  legs,  set  out  to  catch  the 
"Fifty-fifth  No'th  Ca'lina,"  which  by  this  time  was  half  a  mile 
ahead,  and  my  strength  was  taxed  to  keep  with  him.  You  all 
know  what  exasperating  work  it  is  to  overtake  a  column  in 
march.  Burdened,  already  tired,  the  road  full  of  men  so  that 
you  must  pick  your  way  on  the  outside  where  frequent  obstruc- 
tions turn  you  and  make  your  work  greater,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  sometimes  hours  go  by  before  your  task  is  done.  So  it 
was  on  this  day.  Some  new  order  must  have  been  given,  for 
when  we  reached  the  road  the  troops  were  going  forward  at  a 
faster  gait,  and  the  file-closers  were  urging  yet  greater  speed. 
Carroll  swore  broadly  and  much,  but  never  relaxed ;  he  kept 
on,  gaining  little  by  little  on  the  men  ahead,  passing  one  com- 
pany after  another,  one  regiment  after  another,  and  at  last  I 
heard  him  say,  "By  God,  they've  halted." 

When  we  stood  over  his  company  —  I  say  over,  because  every 
man  of  the  company  was  lying  full  length  on  the  ground,  the 
arms  stacked  by  the  side  of  the  road  —  there  wasn't  a  dry 
thread  on  me ;  I  threw  myself  down  alongside  Carroll. 

"  Who's  that  you  picked  up  ?  "     I  heard  a  man  ask. 

"  Name's  Jones.     He  knowed  Bill,"  Carroll  replied. 

The  short  rest  was  ended.  I  marched  near  the  company  of 
Saddler  and  Carroll  —  as  yet  I  knew  not  what  company  of  the 
Fifty-fifth  North  Carolina.  By  degrees  the  men  made  advances 
to  me— I  had  "knowed  Bill  Saddler." 

Even  Captain  Fender  seemed  to  regard  me  with  some  degree 
of  favour,  for  he  looked  at  me  repeatedly,  and  asked  me  ques- 
tions concerning  my  acquaintanceship  with  poor  Saddler. 
Carroll  had  explained  to  his  captain  that  I  was  permitted  to 


222        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

march  out  of  ranks  in  consequence  of  an  injury,  and  that  1 
preferred  to  be  ahead  rather  than  at  the  rear. 

About  noon  the  firing  of  cannon  was  heard  off  to  our  left  — 
perhaps  two  miles  away.  The  Fifty-fifth  was  thrown  out  as 
skirmishers  on  the  east  of  the  road,  and  advanced  perhaps  half 
a  mile.  The  sound  of  small  arms  was  now  heard,  and  it  was 
clear  that  the  men  around  me  were  expecting  action.  I  kept 
my  place  in  the  ranks.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  noise 
died  away,  and  the  regiment  marched  on  south. 

We  approached  the  North  Anna.  My  suffering  became 
unfeigned.  You  will  remember  that  on  the  night  of  the  12th 
—  only  ten  days  previously  —  I  had  been  stunned  in  the  battle 
at  the  Bloody  Angle ;  from  this  blow  I  had  scarcely  recovered 
when  General  Hancock  sent  me  to  Milford,  where  I  had  worked 
the  whole  night,  and  had  endured  a  mental  strain  such  as  even 
soldiers  seldom  experience  —  can  it  be,  I  asked,  as  I  trudged 
along,  that  the  terrible,  yet  fortunate  encounter  with  Scranton's 
gang,  was  only  yesterday  morning?  Last  night  I  had  little 
rest ;  this  day  had  been  spent  in  heat  and  dust  and  toil ;  I  was 
beginning  to  weaken.  Yet  I  could  not  show  to  my  comrades 
that  I  needed  help ;  they  would  tell  me  to  lie  down  and  rest 
and  wait  for  my  own  company.  I  must  stay  with  the  Fifty- 
fifth. 

We  crossed  the  river  at  Anderson's  Bridge,  and  went  into 
bivouac.  I  was  so  nearly  exhausted  that  I  found  it  impossible 
to  strain  my  attention  so  far  as  to  learn  the  organizations  of 
the  troops  marching  by.  Yet  I  saw  that  all  the  men  in  biv- 
ouac were  allowed  to  rest  —  no  duty  being  required  except  from 
details  to  picket  the  river.  After  crossing  at  the  bridge  we 
had  turned  southeastward,  and  were  now,  I  supposed,  almost 
opposite  Jericho.  So  far  as  I  could  see,  none  of  the  troops 
were  intrenching. 

Ewell  and  Longstreet  had  marched  southward  by  the  Tele- 
graph road,  and  before  this  time  would  have  crossed  the  river 
near  Hanover  Junction ;  the  movement  of  Hill's  corps  down 


JEKICHO  223 

the  river  on  the  right  bank  would,  therefore,  unite  Lee's  army. 
Whether  the  crossings  would  be  disputed  I  could  not  know,  but 
I  fancied  that  General  Lee  would  allow  a  corps  of  Federals  to 
reach  the  south  side  in  order  that  he  might  crush  them  before 
they  could  be  reenforced. 

Night  came  on,  and  I  yet  lay  with  the  Fifty-fifth.  Beyond 
the  fact  that  my  weariness  prevented  me  from  attempting  to 
get  away  at  once,  there  were  two  considerations  which  held  me 
back :  First,  I  greatly  desired  to  see  and  report  the  new  posi- 
tion which  should  be  intrenched  by  the  Confederates ;  Second, 
if  our  troops  should  cross  the  river,  my  return  would  be  ren- 
dered easier.  I  would  wait  and  see. 

On  Sunday  morning,  the  23d,  Davis's  brigade  was  ordered 
to  fall  into  ranks,  and  the  march  toward  Hanover  Junction 
was  begun.  Having  no  longer  an  excuse  for  remaining  with 
these  troops  I  told  Captain  Fender  that  with  his  permission  I 
should  now  seek  my  own  command,  and  asked  him  for  a  paper 
showing  that  I  had  marched  with  his  company  on  the  preced- 
ing day.  He  willingly  signed  what  I  wrote. 

Having  bidden  good-by  to  the  captain,  to  Carroll,  and  to 
others,  I  bent  my  steps  toward  Jericho  Ford,  hoping  to  learn 
what  Confederate  strength  disputed  the  passage  of  the  river  at 
that  point ;  then  I  flattered  myself  that  I  could  easily  slip  to 
right  or  left,  and  get  across  the  river.  My  way  led  near  the 
Virginia  Central  railroad,  on  which  were  a  few  stragglers  going 
southeast  toward  Hanover  Junction ;  I  inferred  that  the  wagon 
road,  which  I  could  not  see,  was  full  of  marching  troops.  I 
kept  going  parallel  to  the  railroad — between  it  and  the  river. 

A  little  before  noon,  I  observed  that  all  the  stragglers  had 
disappeared,  as  if  by  order.  Wondering  what  was  meant,  I 
approached  the  railroad  embankment,  climbed  it,  and  saw  on 
the  other  side  a  Confederate  line  of  battle,  standing  there  in 
the  hot  sun. 

"  Down  from  there ! "  shouted  an  officer ;  "  come  down,  and 
fall  in!" 


224        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  obeyed.  The  men  about  me  were  of  McGowan's  brigade; 
I  saw  Colonel  Brown.  I  learned  that  I  was  in  the  ranks  of 
Orr's  Rifle  regiment  —  the  First  Rifles,  as  the  command  was 
called. 

Almost  at  once  we  were  ordered  to  face  to  the  right.  The 
regiment  marched  by  flank  down  the  railroad,  halted,  fronted, 
and  was  ordered  to  deploy  as  skirmishers.  When  this  had 
been  done  I  found  myself  about  a  third  of  the  way  from  the 
left  of  the  line ;  the  line  began  to  advance.  There  was  a  wood 
in  front,  some  five  hundred  yards  away.  We  advanced  through 
a  wheat-field,  and  reached  the  wood.  Now,  I  thought,  if  this 
line  advances  into  the  wood,  it  will  be  comparatively  easy  for 
me  to  get  away ;  but  there  was  no  farther  advance.  Vedettes 
were  thrown  out  in  front  —  some  fifty  yards  into  the  wood. 

Orders  were  given  to  the  men  that  in  case  a  line  of  battle 
came  upon  us,  we  were  to  retire  quickly  in  order  to  avoid  loss 
—  a  very  wise  order,  for  skirmishers  fighting  a  line  of  battle  at 
close  range  in  open  ground  will  be  caught  or  killed. 

About  three  o'clock  the  vedettes  hastily  ran  back,  and  re- 
ported that  a  full  line  of  battle  was  approaching.  The  regi- 
ment at  once  ran  —  each  man  for  himself  —  and  none  too  soon, 
for  before  we  were  out  of  range  a  volley  burst  from  our  rear 
and  we  had  some  losses.  In  this  affair  not  many  shots  were 
fired  by  the  retreating  Confederates,  and  my  conduct  escaped 
notice. 

The  Federals  advanced  down  the  hill  but  a  short  distance ; 
then  they  went  back  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  seemed  to 
be  intrenching.  Orr's  Rifles,  in  retiring,  formed  again  on  the 
right  of  McGowan's  brigade.  Trains  and  artillery  continued 
to  pass  in  our  rear,  making  for  Hanover  Junction.  After  the 
trains,  the  brigade  filed  into  the  road,  and  marched  for  an 
hour. 

Confusion  must  have  reigned  that  day  in  the  councils  of  the 
Confederates.  At  five  o'clock  the  brigade  countermarched  and 
soon  reached  the  scene  of  the  late  skirmish. 


JERICHO  225 

We  were  ordered  again  to  advance.  Skirmishers  in  our  front 
were  said  to  be  the  sharp-shooters ;  I  did  not  want  to  get  with 
them.  Thomas's  brigade  was  said  to  be  on  our  left,  and  Scales's 
on  our  right,  but  I  did  not  see  either.  Again  we  advanced 
through  the  wheat. 

The  woods  approached  our  line  in  such  a  way  that  our  left 
entered  the  forest  while  yet  the  right  had  three  hundred  yards 
of  open  ground  in  front.  Firing  began.  The  left  regiments 
of  the  brigade  entered  the  woods;  they  seemed  to  press  the 
Federals  back ;  the  firing  receded  toward  the  river,  and  at  the 
woods  there  was  now  a  gap  in  the  line,  for  the  right  failed  to 
drive  the  enemy.  Off  at  the  left  oblique,  artillery  was  roar- 
ing ;  we  could  hear  McGowan's  left  yelling  as  it  continued  to  go 
forward.  I  was  loading  and  firing — firing  into  the  ground  before 
me ;  I  had  been  compelled  to  pick  up  a  gun  dropped  by  a  wounded 
man.  Men  were  lying  down  in  the  green  wheat  —  kneeling 
down  in  the  wheat  —  standing  in  the  wheat  —  all  loading  and 
firing.  Looking  along  our  line  to  the  right  I  could  see  its  end 
—  in  the  open  wheat.  If  Scales's  brigade  was  anywhere,  it 
certainly  had  no  connection  with  our  right ;  it  would  have  been 
folly  for  us  to  charge ;  we  remained  stationary,  loading  and  fir- 
ing. The  Yankees  could  have  cut  us  off,  but  doubtless  feared 
to  advance  because  the  left  of  our  brigade  had  reached  their 
flank. 

Now  seemed  my  time.  I  determined  to  get  away.  Little 
by  little  I  edged  off  toward  the  woods.  The  line  was  busy  • 
every  man  was  attending  to  his  own  work,  firing  at  will.  Little 
by  little  I  gained  ground ;  I  passed  the  Thirteenth,  and  reached 
the  Fourteenth  regiment.  At  this  point,  which  was  only  some 
eighty  yards  from  my  former  position,  for  the  regiments  were 
very  small,  the  fire  from  the  enemy  was  not  quite  so  severe,  a 
swell  of  the  ground  affording  a  slight  protection.  I  saw  Cap- 
tain Boatwright.  He  was  in  command  of  the  Fourteenth  and 
was  talking  to  an  officer  whom  I  did  not  know.  I  passed  near 
them,  and  heard  disconnected  words. 
Q 


226        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  Driving  .  .  .  you  say  ? " 

"Yes  .  .  .  woods  .  .  .  left!" 

"How  far?" 

"...  half  a  mile  .  .  .  hail  Columbia!" 

I  turned  to  look  back,  and  saw  the  officer  pointing  north- 
west —  left  oblique,  the  captain  giving  close  attention.  North- 
west was  the  way  I  wanted  to  go  to  reach  our  lines  through 
the  gap  in  McGowan's  brigade,  but  I  suspected  that  the  officer 
was  pointing  toward  the  left  of  the  brigade,  which,  from  the 
scrap  of  conversation  I  had  heard,  I  judged  had  swung  round 
to  the  flank  of  the  Federals,  and  I  now  decided  that  when  I 
reached  the  woods  I  should  turn  more  toward  the  north. 

The  left  of  the  Fourteenth  rested  just  within  the  timber;  it 
was  difficult  to  prevent  the  men  in  the  open  field  from  crowd- 
ing to  their  left  for  shelter;  in  fact  this  crowding  process 
was  now  going  on,  men  darting  behind  trees  to  load,  and  re- 
maining there  until  forced  out  by  the  officers.  I  continued 
to  make  my  way  into  the  forest  until  I  reached  the  end  of 
the  line. 

"  Get  out  of  that ! "  cried  a  voice,  and  I  saw  an  officer  driv- 
ing a  man  away  from  his  tree ;  both  men  were  very  near  me. 

"  And  you,  too,  sir !     Get  out  and  into  the  line ! " 

These  words  were  addressed  to  me. 

"  I  belong  to  the  First,  Captain,"  I  replied,  and  went  on  into 
the  woods. 

The  sound  of  the  firing  through  the  woods  had  turned  still 
more  to  the  north.  I  soon  saw  before  me  the  end  of  a  line  of 
men,  and  thought  at  first  that  these  men  were  Federals,  but 
almost  as  soon  saw  my  mistake,  for  I  ran  into  Company  C,  of 
the  First,  whose  officers'  faces  were  not  unfamiliar.  I  saw 
Colonel  Brown,  also,  who  commanded  the  brigade,  and  who 
was  peering  into  the  woods  in  the  direction  from  which  I  had 
come. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from,  sir  ?  "  he  shouted,  above  the  din. 

"  From  the  Fourteenth,  Colonel ! "  I  shouted  back. 


JEKICHO  227 

"  Where  is  it  ?  I  want  to  find  it !  Lead  me  back  to  it  at 
once ! " 

"  I  think  you'd  better  go  by  the  rear,  Colonel ! " 

"  Why  so  ?    What !    Didn't  I  see  you  at  Spottsylvania  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Berwick  Jones,  of  Company  H." 

"How  long  since  you  saw  the  Fourteenth?  Where  is  it 
now  ?  " 

"  It  has  not  been  ten  minutes,  Colonel.  The  regiment  is  not 
more  than  two  hundred  yards  across  here,"  pointing  southeast, 
from  which  direction  yet  came  the  noise  of  battle. 

"  Lead  me  to  it,  Jones !     Come ! " 

I  felt  that  I  was  in  a  close  place ;  there  was  no  intention  on 
my  part  to  lead  Colonel  Brown  wrong ;  I  hesitated.  He  saw 
my  hesitation  and  sprang  forward.  I  followed  him.  He  began 
to  run.  I  saw  that  he  was  going  wrong  —  going  where  I  wanted 
to  go ;  where  he  should  have  shunned  to  go.  He  was  ten  steps 
ahead.  I  shouted :  — 

"Colonel,  turn  more  to  your  right!  To  your  right!  To 
your  right ! " 

Yet  for  myself  I  would  keep  straight  north. 

Suddenly  I  saw  Colonel  Brown  in  the  midst  of  men  —  blue 
men ;  one  of  them  —  a  corporal  —  had  his  hand  on  the  colonel. 

A  moment  more,  and  "  Throw  down  that  gun ! "  came  from 
my  left,  and  I  raised  my  hands.  We  were  surrounded.1 

The  men  were  Pennsylvanians.     A  detail  took  us  to  the  rear. 

Colonel  Brown  said,  "  I  wish  I  had  listened  to  you,  Jones ; 
we  ought  to  have  gone  more  to  the  right." 

I  was  truly  sorry.  In  my  work  for  General  Meade  it  was 
clearly  understood  that  my  efforts  should  be  directed  only  to 
large  ends ;  the  killing  or  the  taking  of  a  man  or  two  could  be 

1  "Corporal  Lewis  Corbin,  of  Company  B,  here  captured  Colonel  Brown 
commanding  a  brigade  of  the  enemy."  Report  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  D.  C. 
McCoy,  commanding  Eighty-third  Pennsylvania.  "  Colonel  Brown,  our  brig- 
ade commander,  was  captured  in  attempting  to  cross  the  woods  from  the  First 
regiment  to  the  Fourteenth."  —  Cald well's  McGowan's  Brigade,  p.  155.  [ED.] 


228       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

but  waste  of  time ;  even  the  capture  of  a  colonel  could  have  no 
appreciable  influence  on  the  war. 

We  were  soon  separated.  Not  until  Colonel  Brown  had  been 
taken  very  far  from  me,  and  the  detail  which  had  guarded  us 
had  gone  back  to  the.  front,  did  I  claim  to  be  other  than  I 
seemed.  Then  I  demanded  to  be  taken  to  General  Warren. 

I  had  to  get  another  Enfield. 


XX 

SHOWALTER 

'« Hence,  horrible  shadow ! 

Unreal  mockery,  hence  !  —  Why,  so  ;  — being  gone, 
I  am  a  man  again.1'  — SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  army  had  crossed  the  North  Anna  in  two  places ;  Lee 
had  skilfully  thrust  his  force  like  a  wedge  between  its  wings  ; 
Meade  was  withdrawing,  but  only  to  advance  again,  farther 
to  the  left. 

By  General  Meade's  order  I  rode  to  Hanovertown  on  the 
morning  of  the  27th,  arriving  just  as  Russell's  division  of  the 
Sixth  corps  was  crossing  the  Pamunkey.  My  duty  was  to 
inform  General  Russell,  so  far  as  I  could,  of  the  nature  of  the 
ground  in  his  front;  I  had  scouted  over  it  more  than  once 
under  McClellan,  and  had  marched  over  it  under  Lee,  and  my 
memory  served  me,  as  to  its  details,  with  accuracy  and  vivid- 
ness not  less  than  phenomenal. 

The  division  of  infantry  under  General  Russell  remained 
near  the  pontoon  bridge ;  cavalry  were  thrown  out  right  and 
left  and  front,  and  before  nightfall  reported  the  enemy  on  the 
march  for  the  Totopotomoy.  Early  on  the  28th,  the  Fifth 
corps,  Warren's,  began  crossing  to  the  south  side,  and  before 
noon  line  of  battle  was  formed,  the  right  resting  on  the  road 
to  Richmond,  halfway  between  the  river  and  Hawes's  Shop, 
the  left  near  the  Totopotomoy  where  it  is  crossed  by  the  road 
leading  south  to  Old  Church,  and  almost  at  the  very  spot 
where  Black-Horse  Jones  and  I  had  forded  the  creek  on  the 
23d  of  May,  1862.  I  was  with  General  Warren,  giving  him 

229 


230        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

quick  responses  to  his  intelligent  assertions  concerning  the 
character  of  the  country,  and  the  courses  of  the  roads,  which 
he  knew  almost  as  well  as  I  did,  when  a  courier  came  up  with 
an  order  for  me  to  report  at  once  to  General  Grant.  I  had 
never  before  had  a  word  addressed  to  me  by  this  distinguished 
man,  though  I  had  frequently  been  very  near  his  person,  and 
I  must  avow  that  it  was  with  some  trepidation  that  I  followed 
the  courier. 

General  Grant  asked  me  first  whether  I  knew  anything  of 
the  country  below. 

"Not  below  Old  Church,  General;  that  is,  for  a  long  dis- 
tance." 

"  How  far  ?  " 

"I  have  never  been  between  Old  Church  and  Eltham's 
Landing,  sir." 

"  He'll  do  it,  all  the  same,"  said  General  Meade,  standing 
near. 

"  I  want  you  to  reach  White  House,"  said  General  Grant. 

I  bowed. 

"  Can  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  General." 

General  Grant's  look  was  neither  pleasing  nor  the  reverse. 
He  was  probing  me,  and  I  was  very  willing  that  he  should. 

"  True.  There  are  such  things  as  impossibilities ;  this  may 
be  one.  I  shall  trust  General  Meade's  opinion  of  you." 

"  General,  I  can  only  promise  to  do  my  best." 

"  I  am  sending  three  messengers  to  General  Smith,  who  will 
land  his  corps,  perhaps  to-morrow,  at  White  House.  You  see 
I  count  on  two  being  captured.  Will  you  risk  it  ?  " 

"Yes,  General." 

"  Then,  take  this  despatch  and  deliver  it." 

"  Am  I  to  choose  my  own  route,  sir  ?  " 

"  Which  is  the  best  route  ?  " 

"  Down  the  river  on  this  side,  sir,  is  the  nearest  way,  and 
so  far  as  I  know,  as  safe  as  any  other." 


SHOWALTER  231 

"  Both  of  the  other  men  go  by  roads  on  this  side.  You  may 
do  so  if  you  wish." 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  chances  for  one  of  the  three  will  be 
greater  if  we  go  separately  and  by  different  roads." 

"  So  do  I." 

"  I  shall  go  north  of  the  river,  General." 

"  It  is  longer  and  just  as  dangerous." 

"  But  it  increases  our  chances,  sir." 

"  You  are  right.  I  hope  you  will  succeed.  Here,"  said  he 
to  the  courier ;  "  go  with  Lieutenant  Berwick  to  Colonel 
Sharpe,  and  tell  him  for  me  to  help  all  he  can." 

Colonel  Sharpe's  duty  was  to  be  omniscient ;  that  is  to  say, 
he  was  the  provost-marshal.  I  was  not  entirely  unknown  to 
him.  He  was  north  of  the  river. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  to  do  now,  Berwick  ?  "  he  asked,  after 
the  courier  had  delivered  the  message  and  ridden  away. 

"  I  want  to  get  to  White  House  by  going  on  this  side,  sir." 

"  Better  try  the  other  side." 

"Why  so,  Colonel?" 

"  Shorter  and  safer." 

"  Two  men  have  already  gone  on  the  south  side." 

"  Settles  it.     Come  here.     Study  this  map  a  minute." 

I  did  so.  The  roads  were  zigzagging  all  over  it.  To  reach 
White  House  many  angles  must  be  made. 

"  How  is  the  country  away  from  the  roads,  Colonel  ? " 

"  Passable,  so  far  as  the  ground  is  concerned." 

"  But  as  to  other  things  ?  " 

"  Ah !  there's  the  rub.  Hostile.  Those  people  down  there 
trust  nobody ;  home-guards.  Throw  heads  or  tails  to  go  as  a 
rebel  or  a  Union  man,  and  if  you  win  you  lose." 

"  Are  there  no  negroes  ?  " 

"  A  few  left.  Many  have  been  sent  into  the  interior  by  their 
owners ;  many  others  have  come  in." 

"  How  would  you  advise  me  to  go,  Colonel  ?  " 

"  How  dressed,  you  mean  ?  " 


232        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  Six  of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other ;  go  as  you  are  j 
Jess  trouble ;  spies  in  there  frequently ;  dressed  any  way." 

"  Why  not  go  as  a  citizen  ?  " 

"  Nobody  would  know  you ;  a  strange  citizen  would  be  sus- 
pected by  everybody." 

"  You  can  give  me  no  help,  Colonel  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  can  give  you  a  little;  not  much  probably,  yet  it 
may  prove  to  be  worth  something.  About  halfway  down  to 
White  House  we  have  a  friend.  If  you  reach  him  safely,  he 
can  tell  you  how  to  go  on." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  how  can  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  I'll  send  you  part  of  the  way.     See  Brandy  wine  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I'll  send  you  two  miles  beyond  Brandy  wine  —  to  the  south 
of  Brandy  wine ;  a  narrow  road  leaves  this  one  a  mile  this  side 
of  Brandywine  and  runs  almost  south.  I'll  send  a  squad  of 
cavalry  with  you  that  far." 

"And  then?" 

"  Then  you  will  find  your  way  southeast  for  eight  miles,  or 
such  a  matter  j  I  can't  be  exact.  You  will  find  somewhere  a 
deserted  house  —  it  looks  like  one  at  least ;  there  are  lots  of 
deserted  houses,  but  this  one  has  dormer  windows,  and  the 
chimney  on  the  west  end  has  fallen  down." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  It  is  not  on  any  road  exactly ;  it  is  north  of  the  road  an 
eighth  of  a  mile,  and  has  a  carriageway  out  to  the  road,  but 
the  way  is  grown  up  with  weeds  and  bushes ;  in  the  night  one 
would  pass  by  and  see  nothing." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  In  the  house  lives  a  friend  of  ours ;  I  will  go  so  far  as  to 
say  that  he  is  as  good  a  friend  as  if  he  was  one  of  us." 

"  How  can  I  find  him  if  I  get  there  ?  " 

"  Whistle  '  Bonnie  Blue  Flag.' " 

«  Yes,  sir." 


10 
THE    JAMES 

SCALE  OF  MILES 
018346 


SHOWALTEE  233 

"  If  he  hears  you  he  will  cough.  Then,  when  you  see  him, 
you  must  ask,  <  Is  anything  stirring  in  these  parts  9 ' " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  is  anything  stirring  in  these  parts.  " 

"  And  he  will  reply, '  Not  even  a  mouse,'  that  is,  he  will  make 
that  reply  if  the  coast  is  clear,  but  if  there  is  danger,  he  will  say, 
'Nothing  but  rats  and  mice.'  Then  you  ask  if  Showalter  is  well." 

"Showalter.     Yes,  sir." 

"He  is  Showalter,  himself.  Don't  ask,  'Are  you  well?' 
Say,  '  7s  Showalter  well  ? '  He  is  Showalter,  and  his  house  is 
Showalter.  He  will  ask  you  no  questions  about  your  pur- 
poses, but  will  reply  to  your  inquiries,  and  will  give  you  what 
help  he  can.  He  will  take  care  of  you,  if  you  need  to  remain, 
and  will  receive  pay  or  not,  just  as  you  choose." 

"  Shall  I  find  nobody  else  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  That  depends.  He  has  one  servant,  a  negro  man.  It  may 
be  that  other  persons  are  in  the  house,  for  he  turns  no  one 
away.  There  may  be  Confederates  in  the  house ;  they  think 
he  is  their  friend." 

"  How  can  I  trust  such  a  man  ?  " 

Colonel  Sharpe  looked  into  a  portfolio  and  handed  me  a 
paper.  It  was  part  of  an  alphabetical  list  of  the  provost- 
marshal's  official  help  for  1862.  On  it  he  pointed  to  the  name 
of  Captain  Walter  S.  Howe. 

"Captain  Howe  is  Showalter,"  said  the  colonel;  "if  you 
can  only  find  him  you  need  have  no  fears ;  he  is  compelled  to 
keep  up  appearances  with  all  his  neighbours ;  he  is  regarded 
as  neutral  by  some,  and  as  a  man  perfectly  indifferent  to  the 
war.  He  is  past  the  age  for  active  service  —  or,  at  least, 
appears  to  be.  He  is  an  officer  of  the  old  army  —  was  in  the 
Mexican  war.  He  has  lived  in  Virginia  for  a  good  many 
years.  He  served  us  well  in  McClellan's  time." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  find  him,  Colonel.  Southeast  eight 
miles  ?  " 

"Southeast  eight  miles.  Ask  for  Showalter  if  you  meet 
anybody  —  especially  if  you  meet  a  negro." 


234        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  But  I  am  hoping  to  meet  no  one." 

"  In  that  case  you  will  not  be  molested,"  said  he,  laughing, 
"  and  you  will  hardly  need  Showalter.  Of  course  you  won't 
try  to  find  him  unless  you  need  help." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  am  ready." 

The  colonel  ordered  a  sergeant  to  take  a  squad  of  cavalry 
and  escort  me. 

"  Colonel,"  I  begged,  "  do  one  more  thing  for  me." 

"What  is  it,  Berwick?" 

"  Let  a  man  go  with  me  to  bring  back  my  horse.  I  have 
decided  to  go  afoot  when  I  find  myself  alone." 

He  reflected  a  little;  then  said,  "All  right;  but  I  must 
limit  you  to  three  miles  more.  I  need  every  man  I've  got. 
Good  luck  to  you,  Berwick." 

I  left  almost  all  my  possessions,  few  enough,  in  the  care  of 
the  provost-marshal.  I  went  dressed  as  a  private  in  the  Union 
army,  with  a  little  hardtack  in  my  pockets,  and  a  little  money 
in  my  purse.  The  weather  had  become  too  warm  for  wearing 
the  double  clothing,  and  it  had  been  left  with  Dr.  Khayme's 
supplies,  to  be  renovated  for  next  winter's  wear. 

No  incident  happened  while  I  was  under  the  protection  of 
the  sergeant's  escort.  We  reached  the  road  referred  to  by 
Colonel  Sharpe,  and  turned  short  to  the  right.  It  was  now 
about  half-past  three.  Two  miles  more,  and  the  sergeant  left 
me  with  one  man.  He  and  I  continued  south  —  a  little  east 
of  south.  The  region  generally  was  flat  —  interspersed  with 
low  hills  and  many  small  brooks.  Water-oaks  and  gum  trees 
intermingled  on  the  banks  of  the  streams  while  the  higher 
ground,  sandy  and  infertile,  abounded  with  the  low  and 
scraggy  second-growth  pine,  common  to  the  southern  states. 
There  were  but  few  birds.  In  the  fields  there  was  no  ploughing. 
We  saw  some  inhabitants,  but  did  not  fear  them  for  we  were 
near  the  rear  of  the  army  as  yet,  and  knew  that  the  people 
were  expecting  worse  desolation  than  had  already  come  upon 
them. 


SHOWALTER  235 

At  length  my  companion  said  that  his  limit  was  reached. 
I  dismounted  and  gave  him  my  bridle.  He  looked  at  me 
compassionately  —  then  turned,  and  went  up  the  road,  without 
saying  a  word. 

I  was  now  a  few  miles  nearer  White  House  than  I  had 
been  when  I  started,  and  my  course  was  comparatively  straight, 
if  I  could  but  find  it.  There  would  yet  be  some  hours  of  day- 
light, and  I  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  them.  According  to 
Colonel  Sharpe's  information  I  was  not  more  than  five  miles 
from  Showalter.  I  knew  not  whether  I  was  on  the  right  road, 
but  I  knew  the  general  direction,  and  knew  that  I  could  keep 
it  unless  hindered  by  water  or  by  men.  Yet  I  did  not  intend 
calling  upon  Showalter.  I  would  go  beyond  him  if  strength 
and  good  luck  would  let  me,  and  rest  in  the  woods.  No  doubt 
the  messengers  sent  out  by  the  southern  routes  would  reach 
General  Smith  early  to-morrow.  I  did  not  fret  on  that  ac- 
count. I  knew  that  I  was  being  used  only  as  a  reserve.  If 
I  should  reach  White  House  at  all,  I  should  be  doing  all  that 
was  required  of  me. 

I  soon  came  to  a  fork  of  the  road.  The  two  branches  were 
as  nearly  equal  as  possible.  Neither  branch  showed  signs  of 
recent  travel,  either  being  littered  yet  with  the  leaves  of  last 
winter. 

It  was  Hobson's  choice.  I  had  previously  decided  to  take 
the  right  in  every  case  of  extreme  doubt,  simply  because  the 
river  was  at  my  right;  General  Smith  would  come  up  the 
river.  But  just  as  I  was  about  to  go  forward  to  the  right,  I 
saw  in  the  left-hand  road  a  green  pine  bough,  and  stepped  to 
it,  and  picked  it  up,  and  examined  it.  It  was  very  small ; 
it  would  have  weighed  an  ounce,  perhaps.  I  turned  it  one 
way  and  another,  and  found  that  it  had  not  been  broken  from 
the  limb,  but  had  been  cut.  The  sap  had  thickened  on  the 
surface  left  by  the  blade,  showing  the  work  of  some  days  ago. 
That  the  thing  was  a  token  I  had  no  doubt.  But  of  what  ? 
You  may  think  it  strange,  but  I  now  changed  my  mind; 


236        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  put  back  the  pine  in  the  place  where  I  had  found  it,  and 
began  to  go  forward  on  the  left-hand  road.  Perhaps  curiosity 
had  some  share  in  the  matter,  yet  reason  also  had  some,  for 
a  signal  from  a  Confederate  to  a  Confederate  in  these  parts 
did  not  seem  necessary.  The  pine  bough  had  been  lying 
there  three  or  four  days,  no  doubt.  The  Confederates  knew 
the  region;  they  would  need  no  signal.  Possibly  the  sign 
had  been  given  to  a  Southerner  closely  following,  but  in  that 
case  it  had  already  served  its  purpose.  Yet  I  confess  that 
I  went  on  now  more  cautiously,  keeping  out  of  the  road  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  time,  and  looking  carefully  about  me 
before  venturing  into  open  spaces. 

In  about  half  a  mile  the  road  forked  again,  and  here,  in  the 
rightrhand  branch,  there  was  a  pine  sprig  similar  to  the  first. 
After  closely  looking  at  it,  and  seeing  that  it  also  had  been 
cut,  I  threw  it  by  momentary  impulse  to  the  side  of  the  road 
amongst  the  leaves;  then,  thinking  that  I  had  acted  impru- 
dently, I  stepped  to  it  to  replace  it,  and  saw  lying  near  it  a 
similar  sprig,  but  older.  Now  came  the  conclusion  that  these 
pine  branches,  placed  and  removed  at  intervals,  were  intended 
as  more  or  less  permanent  signs  of  something  —  guides  per- 
haps to  direct  the  doubting  to  some  place  they  were  seeking. 
The  older  sprig  was  changing  colour ;  had  the  wind  blown  it 
away  ?  No  matter ;  whether  its  removal  had  been  owing 
to  accident  or  to  purpose,  its  having  been  succeeded  was  proof 
of  intention  and  of  persistence. 

Had  Showalter  placed  these  signs?  Two  mysteries  were 
before  me  —  Showalter  and  these  signals  —  was  there  not  some 
relation  ? 

Now  in  the  distance  I  saw  a  horseman — he  was  approaching ; 
where  he  was,  the  ground  was  open ;  where  I  was,  there  were 
trees;  I  hid  and  waited  for  him  to  pass.  He  was  riding 
slowly,  his  horse  at  a  gentle  pace.  I  saw  that  he  was  armed 
and,  nearer,  knew  that  a  shot-gun  was  across  his  lap.  He  was 
a  man  under  middle  age,  a  common  countryman.  He  passed 


SHOWALTER  237 

me  with  his  head  bent  down,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor 
to  the  left.  Why  was  this  man  armed?  Was  he  a  home- 
guard  ? 

I  went  on.  Night  was  coming.  I  was  getting  weary.  I 
had  found  that  I  was  not  now  so  used  to  marching  as  I  had 
been  when  under  Stonewall  Jackson.  Besides  I  had  been 
awake  almost  the  whole  of  the  preceding  night.  I  must  soon 
have  sleep  and  rest.  Showalter  and  the  pines  interested  and 
mystified  me.  Showalter  —  Showalter — Show-all-to  Showalter ! 
But  this  was  fanciful ;  the  similarity  of  sound  in  the  surname 
and  the  three  words  was  only  coincidence ;  what  did  the 
pine  sprigs  mean  ?  Yet,  having  once  started,  my  mind  kept 
calling  Showalter,  and  kept  trying  to  fill  the  word  with  mean- 
ing. Showalter  —  Show  all  to — Showalter  —  Show  alter! — 
Show  another !  Could  there  be  anything  in  that  ?  I  could 
not  believe  it,  yet  it  was  possible.  Whatever  else  was  true, 
it  was  certain  that  my  mind  refused  to  attribute  the  signals 
to  any  other  than  Showalter. 

At  my  left  the  forest  became  denser.  I  thought  that  I  had 
come  far  enough  to  be  near  the  deserted  house,  and  at  every 
step  I  took  I  kept  watching  the  ground  for  signs  of  an  old 
road  leading  north.  At  last  I  saw  it. 

Years  of  travel  had  worn  the  soil  where  the  two  ways  met, 
and  the  leaves  of  many  winters  had  failed  to  cover  entirely 
the  ruts  now  polished  by  time.  But  for  these  ancient  traces 
one  might  have  looked  long  and  in  vain  for  what  I  had  sought 

—  there  was  no  vista ;  the  disused  carriageway  was  circuitous 
and  had  been  overgrown  by  the  invading  forest.     At  the  spot 
I  paused  and  hesitated.     My  curiosity  in  regard  to  Showalter 

—  man  and  place  —  did  not  grow.     To  keep  on  seemed  best. 
I  could  yet  make   a  mile  —  perhaps  two  —  and  every  mile 
counts.     I  turned  away  from  Showalter  and  went  on. 

The  light  was  dying,  and  I  knew  the  night  would  be  dark, 
for  the  moon  would  not  rise  until  past  midnight.  If  the  road 
should  fork  again,  my  further  progress  would  be  all  guesswork ; 


238        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  might  never  see  the  fork.  But  I  went  on,  and  in  a  little 
while  saw  a  light  through  the  woods,  and  came  to  a  wide  road 
running  directly  across  my  path.  The  light,  I  thought,  came 
from  a  camp-fire ;  perhaps  the  woods  were  burning,  but  I  had 
seen  no  burning  woods  on  that  day,  and  saw  no  reason  why 
the  woods  here  should  burn.  The  fire  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  wide  road,  and  I  was  afraid  to  venture  across  it,  for 
fear  of  being  seen,  or  to  take  down  it  or  up  it,  for  fear  of  going 
wrong.  At  any  rate  I  could  not  go  much  farther ;  I  must  soon 
stop  for  the  night ;  my  strength  must  not  be  trifled  away  in 
plunging  through  bushes  without  purpose ;  my  strength  must 
be  saved  for  the  day  to  come.  I  sat  down  and  thought  awhile. 
Voices  came  to  me  from  the  other  side  of  the  road,  but  I  could 
not  tell  the  words.  This  was  a  camp  —  what  camp  ?  A  camp 
of  bushwhackers  ? 

After  a  little  time  had  passed  —  a  time  of  nervousness  —  I 
saw  that  to  remain  where  I  was  would  be  merely  to  keep  my 
interest  excited,  so  that  I  could  not  sleep,  and  I  decided  to  go 
back  to  Showalter.  At  Showalter  could  be  found  rest,  and 
food,  and  perhaps  greater  help.  Why  had  I  not  accepted 
these  before  ?  I  could  have  saved  toil  and  trouble.  I  went 
back. 

I  went  up  the  carriageway,  tracing  it  by  the  thicker  under- 
growth which  the  more  open  ground  had  developed.  Three 
hundred  yards  from  the  road  stood  an  old  building.  I  could 
dimly  make  out  the  lack  of  a  chimney  on  the  west  end.  There 
were  no  lights.  There  were  no  barking  dogs.  There  was  no 
sign  of  life.  I  began  whistling. 

I  continued  to  whistle,  sometimes  loudly.  At  length  I 
heard  a  footfall  on  the  porch,  and  presently  a  man  stood  before 
me.  He  coughed. 

"  Anything  stirring  in  these  parts  t " 

"  Nothing  but  rats  and  mice." 

"  Is  Showalter  well  ?" 

He  came  nearer. 


SHOWALTER  239 

"  You  need  help  ?    Come." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  house,  and  put  up  an  iron  bar 
against  the  door.  I  followed  him  in  the  dark  hall  to  a  rear 
room.  I  could  hear  him  turn  a  key,  and  take  it  then  from  the 
lock.  He  opened  the  door  quickly,  letting  light  from  a  candle 
stream  into  the  passage,  and  motioned  me  to  go  in.  He 
followed,  and  at  once  locked  the  door  from  the  inside. 

I  found  myself  in  a  comfortable  apartment.  There  was  a 
carpet;  there  were  books;  there  were  easy  chairs. 

He  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  about  fifty  years  old.  His  gray 
hair  and  beard  showed  neglect.  He  stood  before  me  without 
his  coat,  looking  an  average  farmer. 

"  Tell  me  your  wants,"  said  he. 

"  Rest,  food,  and  guidance." 

He  went  to  a  closet  and  brought  food.  I  ate,  he  silent,  yet 
looking  at  me  closely.  When  I  had  eaten,  he  said:  — 

"  We  are  safe  here." 

"  Is  there  nobody  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  We  are  safe." 

"I  must  get  to  White  House." 

"  When  ?  " 

"  I  must  rest  to-night,  and  get  there  to-morrow." 

"  You  cannot  get  there  to-morrow." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  The  country  is  watched  ;  you  must  go  at  night." 

"  How  can  I  find  the  way  at  night  ?  " 

"  I  will  send  a  man  with  you." 

"  Could  not  your  man  make  his  way  by  day  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  beg  that  he  go  with  me  to-morrow." 

"  Your  wish  is  granted.  I  suppose  you  are  on  a  matter  of 
importance,  or  you  would  wait.  When  will  you  start  ?  " 

"  Before  daylight." 

"  I  will  send  a  man  to  the  road.  There  he  will  join  you. 
Call  York  and  he  will  understand." 


240        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Thank  you,  Captain." 

He  threw  up  his  hand  warningly. 

"  None  of  that  here.  We  are  safe  now,  but  how  long  ?  Con- 
federates may  be  upon  us  at  any  moment." 

The  man  had  never  smiled  once ;  as  to  that,  neither  had  I. 

"  There  are  men  at  a  camp-fire  half  a  mile  from  here,"  said  I. 

"  Yes ;  at  the  road.    I  know  who  they  are." 

"  I  can  tell  you  news." 

"  Not  at  my  request,"  said  he. 

"  Meade  has  crossed  the  Pamunkey." 

"  You  are  tired  and  sleepy,"  said  he. 

"Yes." 

"  Do  as  I  am  doing." 

He  began  pulling  off  his  shoes. 

"  Take  them  in  your  hand,"  said  he,  "  and  come  with  me." 

He  took  an  object,  a  dark  lantern,  from  the  mantel,  lighted 
it,  then  turned  the  slide  so  that  none  could  see.  He  blew  out 
the  candle,  in  darkness  opened  the  door,  and  went  into  the 
passage. 

I  groped  after  him  up  a  flight  of  stairs.  We  made  two  turns 
and  I  knew  that  he  was  standing  still.  I  heard  him  close  a 
door.  Then  he  showed  a  light,  and  I  saw  a  bed  in  a  corner  of 
the  room. 

"  Look  about  you  quickly,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper  —  out  went 
the  light. 

Again  he  whispered :  "  You  will  not  see  me  in  the  morning. 
The  door  will  be  unbarred.  Good  night." 

I  felt  his  hand  searching  for  mine,  and  grasped  it  warmly. 

The  night  was  very  warm,  yet  I  was  afraid  to  take  off  more 
than  my  coat.  For  a  long  time  I  had  no  sleep.  I  thought  of 
many  things.  The  gloomy  house  oppressed  me.  This  Show- 
alter  confused  me.  The  stillness  was  utter.  I  was  resting, 
but  not  sleeping.  Do  you  know  that  this  house  was  the  first  I 
had  slept  in  for  almost  three  years  ?  Of  course  I  had  slept  in 
hospitals  and  in  tents,  and  in  huts  —  winter  quarters,  both  Con- 


SHOWALTER  241 

federate  and  Federal,  but  in  no  citizen's  dwelling.  And  this 
did  not  seem  a  dwelling.  And  Showalter  —  what  a  life  !  No 
doubt  of  his  loyalty  obtruded.  I  had  full  faith  in  his  helping 
me.  To-morrow  I  should  find  York  waiting  for  me,  and  should 
be  guided  on  my  way.  I  should  reach  General  Smith  and 
deliver  my  message.  Where  were  the  other  messengers  ? 
Had  they  found  difficulty  ?  Had  either  failed  ?  Had  either 
succeeded  ?  Where  was  Lydia  ?  The  base  for  the  army  would 
now  be  White  House.  Yet  I  had  no  hope  that  I  should  find 
her  there ;  it  was  too  early  for  that.  I  hoped  Lydia  would 
never  come  near  the  lines  again ;  yet  Scranton  was  dead,  and  I 
could  have  no  proper  fear  of  any  enterprise  against  her.  Poor 
Scranton ! 

After  a  long  time  I  sank  into  troubled  slumber.  Showalter 
had  not  promised  to  wake  me,  nor  had  I  asked  it;  for,  like 
many  other  men,  I  always  awake — most  frequently  too  early, 
and  lie  and  lose  sleep  through  fear  of  not  awaking. 

But  I  was  awakened. 

The  late-risen  moon  showed  a  recess  at  my  right ;  as  soon  as 
I  got  my  wits  together  I  knew  that  I  was  looking  through  a 
dormer  window. 

Something  had  disturbed  my  sleep.  I  could  remember  no 
noise,  yet  perhaps  there  had  been  a  noise ;  perhaps  Showalter 
was  coming  up  the  stairs  to  wake  me ;  perhaps  he  had  already 
opened  the  door. 

I  got  up  and  put  on  my  coat.     It  was  time  to  start. 

Carrying  my  shoes  I  approached  the  door.  It  was  yet  closed. 
I  put  my  hand  on  the  knob  and  gently  turned,  so  gradually 
turned  it,  that  it  made  no  slightest  sound. 

Showalter  had  said  that  we  were  safe;  when  I  asked  if 
nobody  was  in  the  house,  he  had  seemed  to  evade ;  he  had 
repeated  that  we  were  safe.  Perhaps  I  was  not  the  only  friend 
to  the  Union  cause  harbouring  here  this  night. 

I  began  to  open  the  door.  Deserted  houses  have  creaking 
doors.  My  door  did  not  creak.  I  opened  it  very  slowly,  lis- 


242        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

tening  for  it  to  creak.  It  was  opening.  A  space  of  a  foot  was 
between  its  outer  edge  and  the  door-facing.  I  could  see  into 
the  passage.  I  could  see  the  dormer  window  just  before  me 
at  the  end  of  the  passage.  I  say  I  could  see  the  window,  but 
that  is  not  entirely  true ;  I  could  see  that  there  was  a  window. 
There  was  something  that  kept  me  from  seeing  it;  in  the 
window  stood  a  form. 

The  pale  moonlight  fell  upon  a  draped  figure  leaning  on  the 
window-sill.  Its  face  was  from  me.  I  had  not  power  to  move 
or  breathe.  Level  with  the  window  a  branch  of  some  green 
tree  was  waving  in  the  wind ;  flickering  shade  and  light  fell 
upon  the  bending  shape  before  me.  I  could  not  be  deceived ; 
something  was  there. 

Never  had  I  seen  aught  of  the  supernatural ;  Dr.  Khayme, 
even,  was  more  than  incredulous  concerning  such  ;  science  was 
his  guide,  and  natural  law  his  study,  and  in  no  degree  did  he 
share  the  superstitions  of  the  past  age.  Yet  here  was  a  thing 
that  I  would  not  name ;  here,  before  my  eyes,  in  six  feet  of  my 
hand,  a  thing  that  caused  my  hair  to  stand  on  end  and  my 
breath  to  stop.  It  was  not  hideous;  even  in  imagination  it 
was  not,  yet  fear  had  come  upon  me  at  seeing  it,  and  fear  held 
me  standing.  It  was  motionless ;  it  gave  no  sound ;  yet  there 
seemed  to  emanate  something  greater  than  sound  or  motion. 
I  felt  that  mind  was  there — that  if  the  form  were  that  of  the 
dead,  yet  thought  remained,  and  I  expected  it  to  move  and 
vanish.  I  had  read  and  heard  stories  of  such  things,  and  had 
rejected  them  as  imaginary,  deliberately  or  involuntarily  false. 
Now,  here  before  my  eyes  —  no  optical  delusion,  but  a  fact  — 
was  this  thing  that  I  would  not  name,  this  occurrence  unique  in 
my  experience,  this  thing  of  fearful  omen. 

How  long  I  stood  there  nerveless,  my  eyes  fixed  on  its  head, 
which  seemed  that  of  a  man,  I  do  not  know.  Often  have  I 
wondered  since  that  my  heavy  shoes  did  not  drop  from  my 
trembling  fingers  and  wake  the  house ;  perhaps  my  hands  were 
inflexible  through  fear.  Often  have  I  wondered  siL.3e  that  I 


SHOWALTER  243 

did  not  at  once  shut  myself  away  from  the  unearthly  vision ; 
doubtless  my  strength  had  so  utterly  departed  that  I  could  not. 
Yet  I  know  that  I  thought.  There  would  soon  be  necessity 
for  me  to  act.  Daylight  must  not  find  me  in  this  house.  Could 
I  slip  by,  and  go  down  the  stairs  and  out  at  the  door,  and  on 
down  the  carriageway,  without  being  heard  or  seen  ?  Would 
it  allow  me  to  do  so  ? 

I  knew  that  my  courage  would  return ;  the  recognition  of 
such  knowledge  gave  me  returning  courage.  What  harm  could 
it  do  me  ?  What  harm  would  it  wish  to  do  ?  Trembling  yet, 
I  opened  the  door  a  little  greater  space.  The  door  creaked. 
The  figure  stood  erect  and  turned. 

I  could  not  see  above  the  shoulders.  And  now  a  hollow 
sound,  like  the  voice  of  the  dying :  — 

"Mortal!  be  gone,  'lest  thou  increase  the  number  of  the 
dead.' " 

The  shape  turned  away.  Dimly  I  saw  it  glide  along  the 
passage  until  swallowed  in  the  gloom. 

A  second  more,  and  I  heard  the  click  of  a  door-catch,  and  a 
repetition,  and  my  fears  fled,  for  I  knew  that  living  eyes  had 
tried  to  pierce  the  darkness  in  which  I  stood,  and  that  a  living 
man  had  disappeared  into  an  adjoining  chamber. 


XXI 

YORK 

"  O  sir,  fly  this  place : 
Intelligence  is  given  where  you  are  hid  ; 
You  have  now  the  good  advantage  of  the  night." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  front  door  was  found  unbarred.  Noiselessly  I  stole  out, 
and  on  down  the  carriageway,  pausing  there  only  to  put  on  my 
shoes.  At  the  road  I  saw  no  one,  and  called  York  in  a  low 
tone.  The  bushes  rustled  at  my  right,  and  a  man  came  for- 
ward. 

"Is  that  York?" 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  You  know  what  you  are  to  do  for  me  ?  " 

"  Not  puffeckly,  suh ;  yo'  awdeh's  ah  to  be  strickly  obeyed." 

"  Can  we  talk  freely  here  ?  " 

"  No,  suh ;  we  must  go  f 'om  this  place ;  which  way  ?  " 

"  White  House." 

"  Follow  me,  if  you  please,  suh." 

The  language  surprised  me.  This  negro  was  very  black,  I 
thought;  yet  he  spoke  like  a  man  accustomed  to  hear  good 
speech,  though  a  little  pretentious  and  fond  of  an  imperfect 
big  word. 

We  went  east  on  the  road  until  we  were  near  the  crossing 
where  I  had  turned  back.  Here  York  led  south  through  the 
woods,  and  kept  this  direction  for  almost  half  a  mile ;  then  he 
turned  east  again,  and  we  crossed  the  wide  road,  and  stopped 
in  the  forest  beyond. 

"  Now,  suh,  you  ah  in  secu'ity." 

244 


YORK  245 

«  How  far  is  it  to  White  House  ?  " 

"  About  ten  miles,  suh,  by  the  most  direck  way." 

"  Is  the  direct  way  safe  ?  " 

"No,  suh;  no  way  is  entiahly  safe  fo'  you." 

"  Is  there  a  safer  way  than  the  direct  way  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  suh;  we  can  make  crooks  and  tuhns,  and  get 
th'ough,  I  hope." 

"  What  sort  of  country  is  it  ?  " 

"Like  this,  suh;  we  have  wateh  to  cross,  and  woods  and 
swamps." 

"  You  know  the  woods  ?    No  danger  of  getting  lost  ?  " 

"  No  dangeh  at  all,  suh,  of  that." 

"  How  do  you  guide  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  know  the  country,  suh." 

"  York,  I  saw  some  guide-posts  yesterday." 

"  I  thought  they  had  all  been  destroyed,  suh." 

"  They  were  pine  branches,  at  the  forks  of  the  roads." 

"Oh,  yes,  suh.  I  know  what  you  mean  now.  I  put  'em 
theah  myself,  suh." 

"  To  guide  people  to  Showalter  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  suh ;  to  guide  Mahs  Walteh  back  home,  suh.  He 
wandehs  about  sometimes,  suh,  and  takes  no  notice  of  wheah 
he  is  going.  I've  put  the  pine  branches  on  all  the  roads,  suh, 
so  that  he  can  find  his  way  back." 

"  Is  any  Confederate  force  in  here  anywhere  ?  " 

"  None  of  their  enlisted  fo'ces,  suh,  but  many  othehs  who  ah 
just  as  dange'ous." 

"  Bushwhackers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh,  and  home-gyuahds." 

"  And  Captain  Howe  —  ?  " 

"  You  know  his  name  and  title,  suh  ?  n 

"  Yes." 

"  He  is  friendly  with  ev'ybody,  suh." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  deceived  sometimes." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  suh ;  he  is  deceived  many  times,  but  he 


246        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

thinks  that  he  could  not  have  any  success  at  all  unless  he 
seemed  to  comp'omise  —  to  belong  to  no  side,  suh." 

It  was  sunrise  now,  and  York  had  brought  out  some  of  the 
contents  of  a  sack  which  he  had  on  his  shoulder ;  there  were 
two  small  packages  of  cooked  food,  one  of  which  he  gave  me. 

"  We'd  betteh  eat  now,  suh,"  said  he. 

"Yes;  I'm  ready  to  eat.  Do  you  know  Captain  Scran- 
ton?" 

"  No,  suh.     Is  he  f  o'  the  South  ?  " 

York's  question  embarrassed  me.  I  had  recognized  Scran- 
ton  in  the  false  spirit  of  the  early  morning;  recognized  his 
manner  and  tone,  and  way  of  quoting.  Not  until  I  had  heard 
the  door  open  and  shut  was  I  sure  that  Scranton  was  yet  alive ; 
then  at  once  I  knew  the  truth.  He  had  been  badly  hurt,  yet 
had  escaped,  and  was  now  here,  a  refugee,  a  dependant  upon 
the  kindness  of  Showalter  until  he  should  recover.  I  trusted 
that  he  had  not  seen  me.  I  was  sure  that  he  had  not  been 
able  to  distinguish  me  when  he  spoke,  but  was  by  no  means 
certain  that  he  had  not  watched  from  his  window  and  recog- 
nized me  as  I  crossed  the  yard  in  the  moonlight.  He  was  at 
my  mercy ;  a  few  cavalrymen  could  seize  him  at  any  time. 
Was  Showalter  deceived  in  Scranton?  Showalter  had  said 
that  we  were  safe;  doubtless  he  was  thinking  of  Scranton's 
wound.  The  renegade  could  easily  play  the  Union  officer. 
York's  question  implied  that  Scranton  was  not  known  as  Scran- 
ton at  Showalter.  Scranton  had  had  Lydia  in  his  power,  and 
had  not  abused  his  power;  was  it  for  me  to  tell  York  and 
Showalter  that  Scranton  was  a  renegade  ?  What  good  would 
it  do  ?  Showalter  cared  for  nothing  ostensibly,  and  took  care 
of  all  that  he  might  appear  to  care  not.  My  telling  Showalter 
could  cause  no  change  in  the  recluse's  methods.  But  should 
I  not  divulge  Scranton's  hiding-place  to  General  Meade,  or  to 
Colonel  Sharpe  ?  I  would  wait ;  I  would  decide  later ;  I 
would  confer  with  Dr.  Khayme.  I  had  once  supposed  that 
Scranton — in  fact  had  known  it,  for  the  Doctor  had  said  it 


YORK  247 

plainly  —  was  related  to  the  great  work  which  I  was  to  do ; 
afterward,  when  I  had  believed  Scranton  dead,  my  mind  had 
gone  to  Scherzer ;  had  invested  the  foreigner  with  imaginary 
powers  and  far-reaching  influence  ;  my  fancies  had  been  wild. 
Now  Scherzer  fell  back  into  his  natural  and  subordinate  place, 
and  Scranton,  yet  in  life,  became  by  his  wonderful  escape  a 
most  potential  factor  in  the  unknown  equation  given  to  me  to 
solve.  What  was  Scranton  ?  A  mere  soldier  ?  A  renegade 
only  ?  Could  he  be  allied  in  any  way  with  high  Confederate 
authority  ?  And  my  work  —  my  great  work,  yet  to  be  done, 
what  was  it  ?  I  was  now  working  for  General  Grant,  carrying 
an  important  order  .  .  .  could  this  present  work  be  what  I 
am  to  do  ?  No,  no ;  this  is  small,  I  think,  compared  with  my 
work  when  I  left  the  service  of  the  Confederates. 

York  had  asked  me  if  Scranton  served  the  South.  The  ques- 
tion was  pertinent ;  Scranton  had  served  the  North ;  he  had 
abandoned  the  Federal  army,  and  now  seemed  to  serve  him- 
self. And  only  for  spoil  ?  That  was  hard  to  believe. 

"He  was  on  General  Meade's  staff  last  year,"  said  I, 
evading. 

York  was  a  very  black  negro,  about  thirty  years  old,  and  in 
every  respect,  except  his  language,  was  like  any  other  negro. 
He  caused  me  great  wonder. 

"  What  has  your  master  ordered  you  to  do  for  me  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  I  am  not  a  slave,  suh,"  said  he.  "  Mahs  Walteh  manu- 
mitted me  ten  yeahs  ago.  He  awdehed  me  to  obey  you  in  all 
respecks,  even  to  the  giving  of  any  info'mation." 

This  speech  gave  me  great  relief,  for  I  could  not  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  question  York  concerning  Sho waiter  without  the 
knowledge  of  his  master. 

"  Who  is  the  man  now  sheltered  at  Showalter  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  suh.  Theah  is  a  wounded  man  theah,  but 
I  do  not  know  which  cause  he  adheahs  to.  He  was  brought 
theah  last  Friday." 


248        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"Who  brought  him?" 

"  Five  men,  suh ;  Confederates  they  seemed  to  be,  but  you 
can't  always  tell.     One  of  them  is  a  faheigneh,  suh." 

"  Where  did  the  men  go  ?  " 

"  They  ah  not  f ah  off,  suh ;  they  ah  camping  in  the  woods  ; 
we  have  gone  round  them." 

"  Do  they  come  to  see  the  wounded  man  ?  " 

"Yes,  suh;   one  of  them  comes  eve'y  mo'ning  and  eve'y 
night." 

"  Early  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh  ;  he  helps  to  dress  the  wounded  man's  shouldeh 
as  soon  as  he  wakes." 

"  Is  it  the  foreigner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  the  othehs  don't  come  to  the  house." 

"  They  are  waiting  for  their  comrade  to  recover  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  suh." 

"  He  must  be  an  officer." 

"  Ve'y  likely,  suh.     I  have  felt  some  interest  in  the  affaih ; 
so  has  Mahs  Walteh." 

"The  wounded    man   and  the    foreigner    must    be    great 
friends." 

"  They  ah  so,  suh ;  ve'y  great  friends." 

"  Does  the  foreigner  sleep  in  the  house  ?  " 

"No,  suh;  neveh.      Mahs  Walteh  gives  help  only  to  dis- 
tressed pehsons,  suh." 

"But  the  foreigner  might  be  admitted,  since  he  helps  to 
dress  his  friend's  wound." 

"  He  has  not  asked  to  stay,  suh.  He  is  a  ve'y  strange  man, 
suh.  I  don't  think  he  belongs  to  the  ahmy,  suh." 

"  Does  he  speak  our  language  well  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  suh !  ve'y  well  indeed." 

"  Did  Showalter  teach  you  to  read,  York  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  he  has  been  ve'y  good  to  me.  You  see,  suh,  I 
had  the  good  luck  to  be  of  great  sehvice  to  him  once ;  in  fact 
I  saved  him  from  drowning." 


YORK  249 

"  Ten  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"Who  serves  the  wounded  man?" 

"  I,  suh,  and  sometimes  my  old  masteh." 

"  Is  he  shot  badly  ?  " 

"In  the  shouldeh.     A  flesh  wound,  suh." 

"  Did  he  say  how  it  happened  ?  " 

"  In  a  skihmish  neah  Milford,  suh." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Milford  ?  " 

"  It  must  be  mo'e  than  thihty  miles,  suh." 

"  Is  it  not  singular  that  he  should  come  way  down  here  for 
help  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  the  distance  seems  great,  but  I  suppose  he  did 
not  know  of  any  neaher  help.  He  may  have  been  heah  befo'e, 
suh.  Did  you  see  him  last  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  or  this  morning  rather.  He  was  leaning  at  the 
window  in  the  passage." 

"  He  is  ve'y  impatient,  suh.     Shall  we  go  on  ?  " 

I  had  finished  eating.  York  led  the  way  through  the 
woods.  In  half  an  hour  he  struck  an  old  path  —  it  could 
scarcely  be  seen,  it  was  so  old  —  and  took  it,  going  south- 
east. Half  a  mile  farther  we  came  to  a  straight  road 
running  across  our  course.  It  was  an  old  road,  but  a  wide 
one;  it  ran  straight  for  a  long  distance  north  and  south. 
York  looked,  and  so  did  I,  both  ways  before  we  ran  across  it. 
We  soon  came  to  a  small  stream ;  beyond  it  there  seemed  no 
path  at  all,  yet  York  went  on  without  hesitation.  We  came 
to  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  and  saw  a  large  field  in  front.  It 
extended  right  and  left  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more. 
Here  York  paused  and  seemed  to  consider. 

"  Have  you  no  choice,  suh  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  I ;  "  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Well,  suh,  if  I  was  alone,  I'd  go  right  on  across  ;  it  would 
make  no  diff'ence  fo'  me  to  be  seen,  but  fo'  you  —  " 

"  I  must  not  be  seen,"  said  I. 


250        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  On  the  right  of  the  field  is  a  pond,"  said  he,  "  and  on  the 
left  is  a  public  road." 

"  We  cannot  go  between  the  field  and  the  pond  ?  " 

"Not  safely,  suh;  the  strip  of  woods  theah  is  ve'y  narrow, 
and  is  exposed." 

"  We  cannot  go  round  the  pond  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  we  could  do  so,  but  we'd  have  to  go  a  great 
distance." 

"How  far?" 

"  At  least  three  miles,  suh,  and  then  we'd  still  be  compelled 
to  cross  Jack's  creek,  which  flows  f'om  the  pond  into  the 
riveh." 

"  We  ought  to  cross  the  road  at  the  left,  then,"  said  I.  "  Is 
the  ground  beyond  it  open  or  in  woods  ?  " 

"In  woods,  suh.  I  think  we'd  betteh  get  back  into  the 
swamp  and  cross  the  road  wheah  the  creek  crosses." 

We  went  up  the  creek ;  before  we  caine  in  sight  of  the  road, 
York  asked  me  to  stop ;  he  would  go  on  alone,  and  see  if  the 
road  was  safe.  He  left  his  sack  with  me. 

It  was  now  about  nine  o'clock ;  the  day  would  be  very  warm. 
I  heard  cannon  firing  in  the  west,  —  no  doubt  Lee  and  Meade 
were  now  fighting  on  the  Totopotomoy.  The  army  was  very 
near  the  position  of  McClellan  in  '62.  To  reach  this  posi- 
tion had  cost  Grant  ten  times  as  much  as  McClellan  had 
paid ;  yet  the  Confederates  also  had  lost,  and  it  was  only  by 
killing  the  Confederates  that  the  cause  could  be  gained.  The 
regnforcement  of  the  Eighteenth  corps  —  General  Smith's, 
which  was  landing  now  at  White  House  —  would  once  more 
make  Meade's  army  twice  as  great  as  Lee's.  McClellan  had 
thought  Lee's  army  greater  than  it  was;  he  had  thought  it 
greater  than  his  own.  Indeed  Lee's  army,  in  June,  1862,  was 
a  fine  one  —  a  great  one.  Company  H  had  marched  to  the 
battlefield  more  than  sixty  strong ;  the  other  day  at  Spottsyl- 
vania  it  had,  perhaps,  twenty  men.  Certainly  Grant  had 
greater  preponderance  over  Lee  than  McClellan  had  had.  In 


YORK  261 

the  Gaines's  Mill  battle  —  the  greatest  battle  of  those  in  front 
of  Richmond  in  '62  —  there  is  no  doubt  the  Confederates 
had  the  greater  force.  Now  Grant  is  twice  as  strong  as  Lee ; 
Grant  ought  to  walk  over  the  enemy,  and  go  on  into  Richmond. 
I  hoped  that  the  war  would  soon  end. 

York  returned ;  he  was  shaking  his  head. 

"  The  road  is  watched,  suh,"  he  whispered. 

"  Did  you  see  them  ?  " 

"Yes,  suh;  three." 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  Along  the  road  on  theah  hosses ;  they  ah  sev'al  hund'ed 
yahds  apaht,  and  ah  watching  in  this  direction." 

"  What  sort  of  men  are  they  ?  " 

"  They  ah  three  of  the  men  camped  neah  Showalteh,  suh." 

That  Scranton  had  seen  me,  and  had  set  his  men  after  me, 
was  almost  a  certainty.  What  his  purpose  was,  unless  it  was 
to  have  my  life,  I  could  not  imagine.  Possibly  he  attributed 
his  recent  misfortunes  to  my  work ;  could  he  have  recognized 
me  or  my  voice  as  I  shouted  to  him  in  his  race  for  life  near 
Milf  ord  ?  Could  he  have  heard  any  part  of  the  conversation 
with  Showalter  last  night  ?  He  knew  that  I  was  in  General 
Meade's  service,  and  might  easily  suspect  that  I  was  now  on 
some  secret  mission  of  great  importance. 

"  York,  we  must  go  round  the  pond." 

"  I  f eah  that  we  cannot  do  so  now,  suh." 

"And  why?" 

"  Well,  suh,  you  see  theah  ah  but  three  men  on  the  road ; 
theah  wuh  five  men  in  the  camp,  and  I'm  afraid  the  two 
othehs  are  oveh  theah  now,"  said  York,  pointing  to  the  right. 

"  Then  let  us  go  back  a  mile  or  so,  and  cross  the  road." 

"  I'm  afraid,  suh,  the  old  road  is  watched  also." 

"What  old  road?" 

"  The  straight  road  which  we  ran  across,  suh ;  I  think  the 
last  of  the  three  men,  up  the  road,  is  just  wheah  he  could  see 
us  if  we  should  cross  the  old  road  again." 


252        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Then  we  are  in  a  trap ! " 

"I  think,  suh,  that  the  wuhst  consequence  will  be  delay. 
We  can  hide  in  the  swamp  until  night,  and  then  we  can  slip 
th'ough  or  go  on  across  the  field." 

"  You  think  those  men  will  stand  there  all  day  ?  " 

"No,  suh;  I  think  they  will  soon  begin  to  beat  the  woods, 
at  least  some  of  them." 

"  How  long  is  that  old  road  ?  " 

"  About  half  a  mile,  suh." 

"  Then  we  have  a  big  place  to  hide  in,  if  it's  square." 

"  It  is  not  squaih,  suh  ;  it  is  triangulah." 

"  Where  could  we  hide  ?  " 

"  In  the  tree  tops,  suh." 

"  And  you  think  they  would  not  look  up  ?  " 

"  They  could  not  look  well  into  all  the  trees,  suh." 

"  But  they  would  select  the  thickest,  and  look  carefully  into 
those.  No,  I  won't  stay  here,  York.  You  may  go  back  if  you 
will,  and  I  think  I  can  make  my  way  alone." 

"I  shall  be  grieved,  suh,  if  you  make  me  do  that,  for  I 
am  expected  to  obey  you,  and  I'm  afraid  I  should  be  com- 
pelled to  become  insubawdinate." 

"Well,  then,  York,  get  a  better  plan  than  hiding  in  the 
trees.  They  might  not  find  us,  it  is  true,  but  I  do  not  want 
to  risk  it,  and  besides,  I  don't  want  to  lose  the  day.  I  must 
go  on,  if  possible." 

"  I  shall  stand  by  you,  suh,  but  I  cannot  see  puffeckly  how 
we  can  get  out." 

"  Wait  here  till  I  come  back,"  I  said.  "  I'll  go  up  to  the 
road  and  take  a  look  at  those  fellows  myself." 


XXII 

FIEE 

"  This  murderous  shaft  that's  shot, 
Hath  not  yet  lighted  ;  and  our  safest  way 
Is,  to  avoid  the  aim."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

I  HAD  been  thinking  that  but  for  York  I  could  easily  make 
a  dash  across  the  road  between  two  of  the  renegades  and  get 
into  the  woods  beyond,  before  they  could  recover  from  their 
surprise  sufficiently  to  take  anything  like  accurate  aim.  The 
negro,  however,  must  have  been  deserted,  and  his  wish  to 
obey  Showalter  fully  had  prevented  me  from  deciding  to  go 
alone. 

I  got  near  the  road,  and  could  see  the  three  men.  The 
woods  on  the  other  side  were  open,  and  at  once  I  abandoned 
any  former  hope  of  escape  through  them,  for  I  should  soon 
be  ridden  down.  Just  as  I  was  about  to  start  back  to  York 
one  of  the  men  cried  out,  "  Say,  let's  smoke  him  out ! " 

"  All  right ! "  was  the  reply  ;  "  bully  for  you.'' 

The  two  men  began  to  dismount.  I  ran  back  to  York  at 
once. 

"  They  are  setting  fire  to  the  woods,  York." 

"  Lawd-a-mussy !  "  he  said,  lapsing  completely. 

There  was  a  dead  calm.  I  knew  that  the  leaves  would 
burn  rapidly,  and  if  the  fire  should  be  started  all  round  us 
the  smoke  would  force  us  out,  for  it  could  not  drift  away. 

"  We  must  try  the  creek,  York,"  said  I  j  "  there  is  only  that 
chance,  now." 

He  didn't  make  me  speak  twice;  he  started.  The  creek 

253 


254        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

would  prove  too  shallow  if  the  fire  should  reach  its  banks,  but 
I  hoped  that  by  creeping  down  it  toward  the  pond  we  should 
reach  safety.  Soon  we  could  smell  the  smoke  and  see  it,  not 
only  toward  the  road,  but  in  every  direction;  no  doubt  we 
were  engirdled  with  fire.  The  sun  shone  hot ;  the  woods  were 
like  tinder.  I  had  no  fear  of  the  fire  itself,  but  I  felt  the 
danger  of  being  forced  to  run  out  and  into  the  clutches  of  the 
renegades. 

A  light  breeze  sprang  up,  coming  from  the  northeast.  But 
few  sounds  were  heard.  Not  yet  could  we  hear  the  flames, 
but  birds  and  rabbits  went  by,  fleeing  from  the  terror.  The 
smoke  lay  low  to  the  ground.  The  creek  had  worn  no  deep 
channel ;  its  banks  were  nowhere  more  than  three  feet  high, 
and  the  water  was  not  waist-deep  in  any  place.  York  took 
the  lead.  We  were  wading  cautiously  down  the  creek,  our 
heads  bent  below  the  banks.  The  enemy  would  not  ride  into 
the  burning  woods,  yet  we  knew  not  what  was  in  front  of  us ; 
suddenly  we  saw  fire  in  front  of  us.  A  great  dead  pine  had 
caught,  and  the  flames  were  climbing  high.  We  could  see 
that  the  smoke  had  begun  to  drift  away  in  the  direction  we 
were  taking,  but  we  went  on  until  on  both  sides  of  us  were 
burning  leaves,  and  trees  on  fire,  and  smoke  from  a  thousand 
smouldering  heaps.  Already  the  sun  was  obscured ;  the  smoke 
and  flames  were  unbearable.  To  right  of  us  was  a  long  line 
of  fire  advancing  slowly  against  the  wind ;  at  our  left,  a  line 
of  fire  advancing  rapidly,  the  blackened  forest  beyond  mark- 
ing the  devastation  already  done  there;  and  behind  us  now 
was  the  roar  of  the  coming  flames,  fanned  into  vigour  by  the 
rising  wind.  I  was  already  muddy  and  wet  to  the  skin.  I 
lay  down  for  a  moment  in  a  shallow  pool,  then  rose  and  fol- 
lowed York,  who  was  fast  making  for  the  outlet.  The  smoke 
of  many  acres  was  upon  us ;  we  lay  down  in  the  water  repeat- 
edly, keeping  our  mouths  as  low  as  possible.  On  the  very 
surface  of  the  water  the  air  was  almost  pure  of  smoke,  but 
the  heat  was  very  great.  My  eyes  smarted ;  my  skin  seemed 


FIRE  265 

to  parch.  A  great  burning  tree  fell  across  the  creek;  we 
crept  under  it,  almost  touching  the  fire.  I  looked  for  some 
secret  hollow  in  the  bank  of  the  stream  where  we  might  hide 
until  the  worst  should  pass,  but  found  none.  Smoke  and  fire 
continued  to  oppress  us;  smoke  and  fire  were  everywhere. 
In  this  triangle  of  some  sixty  acres,  almost  every  spot  was 
now  burning  or  smouldering  in  heat.  There  was  no  sun ;  the 
light  was  green  and  red.  Burning  branches  and  twigs  fell  on 
the  surface  of  the  water,  and  ashes  fell  on  us  like  rain.  A  huge 
moccasin  let  me  pass  within  three  feet  and  did  not  move. 

Was  the  outlet  guarded?  No  doubt  it  was,  but  by  how 
many  men  ?  We  hoped  by  only  one ;  three  for  the  main  road, 
one  for  the  cross-road,  and  one  for  the  mouth  of  the  creek.  I 
ordered  York  to  halt. 

"  How  far  are  we  from  the  pond  now  ?  " 

"  A  hund'ed  yahds  or  a  little  mo',  suh." 

"  Is  the  cross-road  near  the  mouth  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  Then  a  man  at  the  cross-road  can  see  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh,  unless  the  smoke  hides  us." 

"We  must  make  the  smoke  hide  us.  We  must  go  to  the 
left." 

"  We  can't  stand  the  smoke,  suh." 

"  We've  got  to  stand  it !  " 

"All  right,  suh;  I'll  stand  by  you." 

"  How  near  can  we  get  to  the  mouth  of  the  creek  without 
being  seen  from  the  road  ?  " 

"  Only  a  few  yahds  f u'theh,  suh." 

"  Lead  on,  then,  and  stop  when  you  must." 

But  a  few  yards,  indeed,  when  York  again  came  to  a  halt. 

"  We  can  go  no  fu'theh,  suh." 

"York,"  said  I,  "we  are  going  to  run  for  it.  Show  me 
the  direction  to  the  corner  of  the  field  where  it  strikes  the 
pond." 

He  pointed  southeast. 


"  How  far  is  it  to  the  corner  of  the  field  ?  " 

"  A  hund'ed  and  fifty  yahds,  suh,  I  think." 

"  York,  we  must  run  it  in  half  a  minute.  Are  there  bushes 
in  the  fence  corners  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  fence  is  afiah,  suh." 

"  Then  we  must  go  beyond  the  fence,  and  as  soon  as  we 
reach  good  air  we  must  lie  flat.  Understand?" 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  They  have  blocked  their  own  game,  York.  They  cannot 
stand  in  that  smoke  all  the  time  and  keep  watch." 

"  I  see,  suh ;  we  will  put  the  wuhst  smoke  between  us  and 
them.  I  think  I'd  better  lead,  suh,  for  I  know  the  ground  a 
little." 

"  All  right.  Now  let's  wet  our  faces  and  hands,  and  take  a 
big  breath.  When  I  give  the  signal,  go  !  " 

Expanding  my  lungs  fully,  I  waved  my  hand,  and  York  was 
off  like  a  deer,  right  through  the  smoke,  over  burning  logs, 
going  straight  southeast,  leading  me  by  ten  yards  and  always 
gaining  ground.  I  followed  as  best  I  could,  but  the  smoke 
blinded  me  so  that  I  could  hardly  see.  My  breath  held  good, 
however,  and  I  kept  on,  guessing  rather  than  knowing  the 
way.  But  I  was  staggering  and  blundering  forward  or  back- 
ward, I  could  not  tell,  when  I  felt  York  grasp  my  hand ;  then 
together  we  ran  on,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  negro  sank  to 
the  earth,  pulling  me  down  beside  him. 

My  nose  near  the  ground  filled  my  lungs  with  air  and  smoke 
—  but  some  good  air.  We  had  run  the  gantlet.  A  great  blue- 
black  cloud  was  floating  slowly  over  the  pond ;  through  it  we 
could  see  nothing. 

"  We  must  crawl  on,  York,"  said  I. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  on  the  very  edge  of  the  pond 
amongst  sweet-gum  bushes,  and  in  pure  air. 

" Now,"  said  I ;  "we  must  go  on  and  put  distance  behind 
us.  They  may  take  a  notion  to  come  down  this  way.  Did  we 
cross  a  road  ?  " 


FIRE  257 

"Yes,  suh;  the  road  down  the  pon'.  We  ah  only  thihty 
yahds  fom  it  now,  suh." 

Still  bending  low,  we  went  on  through  bushes,  sometimes  in 
shallow  water,  keeping  at  the  edge  of  the  road,  which  I  feared 
to  cross.  At  every  moment  I  expected  to  hear  the  sound  of 
horsemen  pursuing.  We  were  in  a  strip  of  bushes  on  the 
border  of  the  pond,  and  soon  the  bushes  had  their  limit.  We 
saw  before  us  a  narrow  open  space,  extending  for  nearly  a 
furlong  between  the  water  on  the  right  and  the  road  on  the 
left,  beyond  which  was  the  forest;  we  had  passed  the  field, 
but  we  were  in  a  worse  place  than  ever  if  the  pursuers  should 
come.  I  looked  behind  us.  The  woods  were  yet  dim  with 
smoke. 

"  York,  is  the  fire  dying  out  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  suh ;  the  smoke  is  not  so  great." 

"  Then  we  must  act  quickly.     Can  we  cross  the  pond?" 

"  No,  suh  ;  not  without  great  dangeh." 

"  Then  we  must  cross  the  road." 

"  We  can  do  so,  I  think,  suh." 

"  Go  up  to  it  and  look  about  you." 

I  was  as  black  as  York.  My  hair  and  beard  were  singed. 
Blisters  were  on  my  hands  and  face ;  my  clothing  was  heavy 
with  water.  In  the  hot  May  sun  little  relief  had  yet  come. 
I  longed  to  lie  in  the  pond. 

York  was  back.  He  said  that  behind  us  nothing  could  yet 
be  seen  on  the  road  for  the  smoke.  A  run  of  a  few  seconds 
would  put  us  in  the  forest.  I  did  not  pause  to  ask  the  nature 
of  the  ground  farther  on ;  we  were  in  imminent  danger ;  any 
temporary  relief  must  be  accepted.  We  made  the  run  and  lay 
down  in  the  woods  far  from  the  road. 

For  a  long  time  neither  spoke.  The  sun  was  in  midheaven ; 
the  place  was  cool ;  we  rested.  York  had  clung  to  his  sack 
through  all  the  scramble;  we  ate  a  little  but  had  no  water. 

"  How  far  have  we  come  from  Showalter,  York  ?  " 

"  Only  about  two  miles,  suh." 


258        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  I  ought  to  have  waited  for  night." 

"  Yes,  suh ;  that  would  have  been  betteh." 

I  was  not  quite  sure  of  it,  however.  If  Scranton  had  seen 
me,  the  game  would  have  been  lost  by  the  day's  delay. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  White  House  ?  " 

"White  House  itself  is  on  the  otheh  side  of  the  riveh; 
perhaps  ten  miles  from  heah,  suh." 

"  How  far  to  the  river  on  this  side  ?  " 

"  About  nine  miles,  suh." 

"  How  far  do  these  woods  extend  ?  " 

"A  long  distance,  suh;  neahly  to  the  riveh." 

"  Have  we  been  going  toward  the  river  ?  " 

"  Not  direckly,  suh ;  we  ah  going  down  it" 

"  How  far  to  our  right  is  it  ?  " 

"Three  miles,  suh,  about." 

"  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  get  near  the  river  ?  " 

"  Hahdly,  suh ;  the  riveh  is  so  crooked  that  we'd  lose  time 
by  following  it." 

"  But  we'd  be  safer  ?  " 

"I  can't  say,  suh;  the  Confederates  cross  it  when  they 
wish." 

I  was  for  going  on ;  York  argued  for  remaining  where  we 
were  till  night.  While  we  were  debating  this  matter,  a  shot  was 
heard  at  our  rear  and  left,  seemingly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  that  means,  York  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply  at  once  ;  he  was  listening.  Now  he  stood 
up,  looking  and  hearkening  toward  the  big  road  at  the  left,  in 
which  we  had  seen  the  renegades.  He  waved  his  hand  at  me 
to  keep  quiet,  and  disappeared  in  the  bushes,  going  toward  the 
road. 

What  the  shot  had  meant  I  could  not  think.  Was  it  a  sig- 
nal ?  A  signal  of  what  ?  Perhaps  our  escape  had  been  learned, 
and  the  force  was  gathering  for  a  new  effort  to  surround  us.  I 
was  wishing  we  had  not  stopped.  I  wished  York  had  not  left 
me.  We  ought  to  go  on. 


FIRE  259 

I  heard  footsteps,  and  York  stood  before  me.  The  rascal 
was  grinning.  "  They've  got  Bahton,  suh,"  he  said. 

"  Who  is  Barton  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  men  who  set  the  woods  afiah,  suh." 

"  And  who's  got  him  ?  " 

"  The  home-gyuahds,  suh.  Got  him  and  his  hoss.  I  reckon 
they'll  hang  him." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  the  others  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  suh ;  they've  run  away,  I  suppose." 

"You  seem  very  glad  that  a  man  is  in  danger  of  being 
hanged,  York." 

"  Yes,  suh ;  I  wish  they'd  hang  eve'y  one  of  'em." 

Although  I  did  not  wish  that  any  man  should  be  hanged, 
yet  I  felt  immense  relief. 

"  We  can  go  on  now,  York  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  suh ;  theah  is  no  longeh  any  dangeh,  at  least  f 'om 
those  men." 

"  But  from  other  men  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  the  home-gyuahds  ah  yo'  enemies." 

"  We  must  risk  them,"  said  I,  rising. 

York  led  the  way  rapidly  straight  through  the  woods,  his 
course  guided  by  nothing  whatever,  so  far  as  I  could  see.  An 
almost  sleepless  night  had  been  followed  by  a  forenoon  of 
intense  anxiety  and  of  actual  suffering,  and  I  was  compelled 
to  ask  York  to  lessen  his  speed;  but  even  a  slower  progress 
was  hard  on  me,  and  before  a  great  while  I  demanded  rest. 
The  negro  encouraged  me  to  keep  on  going  for  a  short  distance 
more ;  we  should  soon  reach  good  water,  and  then  we  might 
rest  till  dark,  if  I  wished  —  a  good  spring,  he  said. 

"  Near  anybody's  house  ?  "  I  asked,  with  some  fear. 

"  No,  suh,  at  de  ole  chu'ch ;  chu'ch  done  gone,  but  spring  dah 
yit,"  he  said,  in  the  affectionate  manner  of  a  negro  giving  comfort. 

"  Public  place,  York  ?  " 

"  No,  suh ;  theah  is  a  cross-road  and  an  old  graveyahd,  but 
the  spring  is  on  this  side.  We'll  be  all  right." 


260       A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

A  few  hundred  yards  farther  on  York  stopped. 

"  Stay  heah,  suh,  till  I  go  and  see,"  he  said.  "  The  spring 
is  right  theah,"  pointing  to  a  little  hollow  not  more  than  fifty 
feet  away,  surrounded  by  undergrowth.  I  told  him  to  be  care- 
ful and  not  go  in  sight  of  road  or  house.  He  went  on,  and  I 
at  once  found  the  spring  and  drank  and  drank ;  then  I  stripped 
off  my  coat  and  bathed  my  hands  and  face,  and  took  off  my  shoes 
and  put  my  feet  in  the  cold  stream  below,  and  let  them  sink 
in  the  wet  sand  and  stay  and  soak.  You  know  what  a  delight 
it  is  to  wade  in  the  water,  and  to  feel  your  feet  make  connec- 
tion with  Mother  Earth ;  it  does  you  good  through  and  through. 

When  York  returned,  he  found  me  lying  flat  on  my  back,  with 
my  legs  in  the  water  and  my  feet  on  the  sand  at  its  bottom. 

"Nothing  to  feah  up  theah,  suh,"  he  said. 

It  was  now  three  o'clock,  and  I  was  sure  that  a  few  hours' 
rest  would  be  well  spent. 

We  found  a  hiding-place  some  two  hundred  yards  farther 
down  the  branch ;  then  I  tried  to  sleep,  and  at  last  did  sleep, 
York  promising  to  remain  awake. 

About  sunset  I  awoke.  York  had  been  faithful  to  his 
promise ;  he  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  some  ten  steps  away, 
watching  toward  the  road.  We  set  out  again,  making  for  the 
river,  where  York  thought  he  could  find  a  boat.  We  were 
soon  on  the  edge  of  an  opening.  York  halted,  and  pointed 
to  an  object  pendent  over  the  public  road.  Just  where  the 
roads  crossed,  a  great  oak  spread  its  limbs  far  and  wide. 
From  one  of  these  limbs  dangled  the  Milford  outpost,  hatless, 
coatless,  and  shoeless.  It  was  not  twenty  yards  from  the  spot 
where  I  was  standing. 

"  I  tole  you  they  got  Bahton,  suh ! "  said  York. 

I  said  nothing. 

On  the  bole  of  the  tree  a  board  had  been  nailed,  and  with  a 
piece  of  charcoal  had  been  rudely  lettered :  — 

WORNING   TO  TRATORS 


XXIII 

WATER 

"  The  posts  come  tiring  on, 
And  not  a  man  of  them  brings  other  news." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

YORK'S  hope  of  finding  a  boat  at  the  river  was  realized. 
Concealed  by  some  negro  above  the  mouth  of  a  small  creek,  it 
might  have  remained  unnoticed  indefinitely,  but  my  companion 
had  used  it  on  a  former  occasion  by  the  consent  of  the  owner, 
and  now  took  liberties  which  he  professed  to  be  easily  able  to 
settle  for.  The  bateau  was  full  of  water;  York  used  his  hat 
and  emptied  it.  He  left  me  awhile  to  fetch  a  paddle,  knowing 
where  it  had  been  hidden.  We  got  in  and  pushed  into  the 
edge  of  the  Pamunkey,  and  on  down  the  stream  under  the 
trees  curving  overhead.  The  night  was  very  dark,  and  our 
progress  was  slow ;  through  fear  of  enemies  on  the  south  bank 
we  would  not  venture  into  the  open  current,  and  the  overhang- 
ing trees  gave  us  much  trouble.  I  sat  in  front,  and  moved  the 
branches  that  obstructed  us ;  York  was  using  the  paddle.  The 
night  was  yet  young,  and  there  would  be  no  moon  before  two 
o'clock;  by  that  time  we  were  hoping  to  be  in  wide  water 
below,  and  near  the  Federal  fleet.  We  talked  but  little,  and 
in  low  whispers. 

"  How  far  is  it  yet,  York  ?  " 

"  About  eight  miles,  suh." 

"  You  mean  by  the  river  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  How  far  by  land  ?  " 

261 


262        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  About  five  miles,  suh." 

"  How  fast  are  we  going  ?  " 

"  Ve'y  slowly,  suh;  I  feah  the  bateau  is  getting  full  of  wateh, 
suh.  It  leaks  badly,  suh." 

We  landed  and  again  bailed  the  water  from  the  boat,  but 
darkness  prevented  us  from  even  trying  to  stop  the  leaks.  We 
had  come  not  more  than  a  dozen  rods.  A  fresh  start  was  made, 
and  again  we  were  compelled  to  stop. 

"  York,  what  sort  of  a  country  is  it  below  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Good  country,  suh." 

"  Many  people  ?  " 

"  Not  many  now,  suh ;  big  plantations,  suh." 

"  Do  you  think  we'd  better  try  it  by  land  ?  " 

"I  think  we'll  have  it  to  do,  suh,  unless  we  make  a  light 
and  stop  the  leaks." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  to  risk  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  think  theah  would  be  much  dangeh,  suh.  We  are 
undeh  the  riveh  bank,  and  nobody  could  see  us,  suh,  unless 
from  the  otheh  side." 

"  But  the  rebels  may  be  on  the  other  side  now." 

"Yes,  suh." 

"We  must  make  a  light.     We  must  lose  no  more  time." 

"  Yes,  suh ;  I  had  some  matches,  but  they  ah  ruined." 

"  I  have  some  in  my  case.     Get  some  dry  wood." 

The  negro  soon  had  a  small  heap  of  sticks  and  leaves.  We 
knelt  on  the  ground,  our  backs  toward  the  river,  in  order  to 
shut  off  the  light  from  the  eyes  of  any  scout  or  picket  on 
the  opposite  shore. 

My  case  contained  but  two  matches.  Yet  they  were  good 
ones,  to  all  seeming,  and  there  was  no  wind.  I  took  out  one 
and  drew  it  deliberately  across  the  rough  surface  of  the  match- 
case. 

The  match  lighted.  The  leaves  kindled,  and  soon  the  boat 
could  be  seen,  lying  half  sunk  in  the  river's  edge.  York  began 
to  bail,  while  I  kept  up  the  fire.  No  sound  came  from  beyond 


WATER  263 

the  river  —  there  was  no  sound  anywhere  except  those  made  by 
the  crackling  twigs  and  the  water  pouring  from  York's  hat ; 
in  my  anxious  eyes  he  seemed  to  make  slow  progress. 

I  stepped  to  him,  and  ordered  him  to  get  out.  Then  we 
both  seized  the  chain  and  dragged  the  boat  out  upon  the  shelv- 
ing bank. 

Even  at  the  instant  of  pulling,  a  flash  broke  the  darkness 
south  of  the  river,  a  rap  was  heard  on  a  tree  behind  us,  and 
the  report  of  a  rifle  rang  out. 

I  sprang  to  the  fire  and  stamped  on  the  flame.  For  an 
instant  the  night  was  pitchy  black,  except  in  one  small  spot 
where  the  embers  yet  glowed. 

"  We'd  betteh  wait  a  little,  suh,"  said  York. 

He  knelt  again  before  the  fire,  his  back  to  the  river;  he 
added  a  little  fuel  to  the  heap.  His  conduct  amazed  me. 

"  Why  don't  you  let  that  fire  go  out  ?  "  I  whispered ;  "  you 
will  draw  another  shot ! " 

"No,  suh;  we  must  save  yo'  last  match,  suh." 

"  But  we  can't  hope  for  anything  now,  York.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you  direckly,  suh ;  we  must  wait  till  the  boat  is 
'ficiently  dry ;  then  we'll  put  it  on  the  fiah." 

"  Put  it  on  the  fire  ! " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  if  we  put  it  on  the  fiah  now,  suh,  it  would  put 
out  the  fiah." 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  driving  at,  York  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you,  suh ;  that  man  oveh  theah  will  think 
we've  run  away ;  then  we  can  patch  up  the  boat  ve'y  easily, 
suh." 

"  By  putting  it  on  the  fire  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  upside  down,  suh  ;  then  we  can  see  the  cracks." 

"  York,  you're  a  genius  ! " 

There  was  no  other  shot.  We  waited.  Half  an  hour  later 
we  turned  the  boat,  which  had  ceased  to  drip  water,  upside 
down  over  a  low  flame  and  then  thrust  more  fuel  under.  The 


264        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

holes  were  now  distinct.     York  sacrificed  his  shirt  sleeve,  and 
soon  pronounced  the  craft  workable. 

******* 

When  the  moon  rose  we  abandoned  the  river,  and  took  it 
afoot  down  the  left  bank  —  some  hundreds  of  yards  from  the 
shore.  We  went  slowly  and  cautiously. 

At  sunrise  we  crossed  the  Nicatawan  Creek,  and  again  ap- 
proached the  river,  which  here  was  a  wider  stream  flowing 
eastward  for  a  long  distance.  York  said  that  just  beyond  the 
next  bend,  which  seemed  three  miles  away,  was  the  railroad 
bridge  at  White  House  Station.  I  had  expected  that  by  this 
time  we  should  see  signs  of  the  Federal  fleet  in  the  water 
below  us,  but  no  smoke  from  steamers  was  visible.  I  was  en- 
couraged, however,  to  believe  that  General  Smith  was  even 
now  landing  beyond  my  vision,  around  the  bend  below. 

At  last  we  could  see  the  railroad  bridge  around  the  bend. 
There  were  no  boats  on  the  river.  What  had  become  of  Gen- 
eral Smith's  corps?  Was  it  possible  that  General  Grant's 
orders  had  been  countermanded,  and  that  my  labour  had  been 
in  vain  ?  Was  it  possible  that  the  corps  had  landed  and 
marched  away  to  the  lines  of  Meade's  army  ? 

We  were  afraid  to  go  near  the  bridge.  I  knew  that  it  could 
be  crossed  on  foot,  for,  although  after  the  23d,  Sheridan's  cav- 
alry had  destroyed  the  flooring,  yet  the  sleepers  remained. 
But  if  Smith's  corps  had  not  yet  landed,  the  Confederate  pick- 
ets held  the  station,  and  it  would  have  been  folly  for  me  to 
venture  across  the  river. 

York  was  lying  in  the  sun,  gloomy,  and  seemingly  asleep. 
All  at  once  he  rose  to  a  sitting  posture,  looking  toward  the 
north.  Now  in  the  distance  I  could  see  a  troop  of  cavalry,  so 
far  away,  however,  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  tell  their 
uniforms.  They  were  going  northwest  on  the  road  which 
York  said  led  to  King  William  Court-House.  I  believed  they 
were  our  men,  but  they  rode  rapidly,  and  were  soon  out  of 
sight,  so  that  even  if  I  had  wished  to  communicate  with  them 


WATER  265 

I  could  not  have  done  so.1  I  asked  York  if  there  was  any  way 
to  procure  food.  He  shook  his  head,  and  said  that  he  did  not 
think  it  possible  without  returning  on  our  tracks  for  several 
miles.  It  would  not  do,  I  thought,  to  decide  to  return.  I  must 
wait  here  until  I  should  become  sure  that  General  Smith's 
command  had  outstripped  me  and  gone  on,  or  else  had  been 
delayed  and  was  still  coming.  How  I  was  to  arrive  at  definite 
knowledge  in  this  respect  I  could  not  know,  but  it  was  clear  to 
me  that  I  must  wait. 

At  about  two  o'clock  we  went  forward  again,  and  on  reach- 
ing a  bend  from  which  we  could  see  the  wide  river  below  the 
bridge,  to  my  great  joy  the  stream  far  beyond  was  crowded 
with  vessels. 

York  fell  heir  to  all  the  money  in  my  pockets,  and  I  wrote 
a  note  to  Showalter,  thanking  him  for  his  kindness,  and  giv- 
ing due  credit  to  his  servant's  loyalty.  I  think  that  York 
was  very  sorry  to  leave  me,  for  we  had  been  together  nearly 
two  days  and  nights,  sharing  toils  and  dangers. 

The  landing  of  the  troops  on  the  south  side  took  many  hours, 
and  it  was  night  before  I  had  succeeded  in  crossing  the  bridge, 
and  almost  midnight  before  I  could  deliver  my  message. 

This  time,  good  fortune  had  befriended  me ;  of  the  three 
messengers  I  had  been  the  first  to  reach  White  House,  though 
I  had  not  much  to  boast  of,  Captain  Hudson  reporting  only  two 
hours  later.2 

1  General  Smith  to  Rawlins,  Chief  of  Staff,  May  31,  1864:    "I  left  City 
Point  with  16,000  infantry,  16  pieces  of  artillery,  and  a  company  of  cavalry, 
the  latter  having  been  sent  yesterday  A.M.  early  from  West  Point  to  com- 
municate with  your  headquarters,   via  the  north  side   of  the   Pamunkey 
River."     [ED.] 

2  From  report  of  General  W.  F.  Smith  :  "  During  the  night  of  the  30th,  and 
morning  of  the  31st,  I  received  three  copies  of  the  following  order : 

"  '  HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES, 
"  '  HANOVERTOWN,  VA.,  May  28,  1864,  1  P.M. 

"  '  MAJ.  GEN.  W.  F.  SMITH,  Commanding  Eighteenth  Army  Corps  : 
" '  GENERAL  :  The  Army  of  the  Potomac  is  now  crossing  to  the  south  side  of 
the  Pamunkey  River  and  massing  at  this  place ;  the  most  of  it  has  already 


266       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

On  the  next  day  General  Smith  had  me  called  before  him. 

"  Do  you  know  the  road  to  Newcastle  Ferry  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir ;  I've  been  near  it ;  I've  been  at  Old  Church,  but 
reached  it  from  Cold  Harbor." 

"You  know  Cold  Harbor  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  When  were  you  there  ?  " 

"  In  May  and  June,  sixty-two  —  just  two  years  ago,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  the  country  around  it  well  ?  " 

"  I've  been  along  the  road  from  Cold  Harbor  to  Old  Church 
both  ways  more  than  once,  General." 

"  What  were  General  Grant's  orders  ?  Did  he  tell  you  to 
return  to  him  at  once  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  but  my  place  is  with  General  Meade,  and  I  must 
get  back  as  soon  as  possible." 

"We  march  for  Newcastle  at  three  o'clock,"  said  he  ;  "and 
you  can  get  back  safely  by  accompanying  our  march." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad,  General." 

And  so  I  marched  back  with  Smith's  column,  utterly  igno- 
rant of  the  fact  that  when  we  started  Lydia  was  on  a  vessel  at 
the  landing,  medical  headquarters  arriving  on  this  day  at 
White  House. 

crossed.  You  will  leave  a  garrison  at  the  White  House  until  it  is  relieved  by 
General  Abercrombie's  command  from  Port  Royal,  and  with  the  remainder  of 
your  command  move  direct  to  Newcastle,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Pamunkey, 
and  there  await  further  orders.  Order  the  garrison  left  by  you  at  White 
House,  on  being  relieved,  to  follow  after  and  join  you. 

"  '  By  command  of  LIEUTENANT-GENERAL  GRANT: 

"  '  JNO.  A.  RAWLINS, 
"  '  Brigadier-General  and  Chief  of  Staff.'  "    [ED.] 


XXIV 

SERVING   CAVALRY 

*'  Bid  our  commanders  lead  their  charges  off 
A  little  from  this  ground."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

DOCTOR  KHAYME  did  not  seem  greatly  astonished  to  hear 
of  Scranton,  whose  base  attempts  upon  me  had  put  an  end  to 
my  reluctance  to  inform  our  authorities  of  his  hiding-place ;  he 
said  he  would  talk  to  General  Meade  at  the  first  opportunity. 
Whether  the  general  already  knew  that  Scranton  had  engaged 
in  a  disreputable  life  I  was  uncertain,  but  I  knew  that  the 
Doctor  would  be  able  to  give  strong  reasons  for  his  own  previ- 
ous conduct  toward  the  renegade,  and  could  explain,  more 
appropriately  than  I,  our  personal  interest  in  the  whole  matter. 

The  battles  of  the  Totopotomoy  and  Cold  Harbor  had  been 
fought.  In  these  engagements,  which  included  many  partial 
combats  undignified  with  separate  names,  success  was  almost 
uniformly  with  the  Confederates ;  protected  by  strong  intrench- 
ments,  their  infantry  coolly  shot  down  our  men  who  were  forced 
time  and  again  to  advance  without  hope.  I  had  not  been 
entirely  idle,  my  knowledge  of  the  country  being  frequently 
called  into  requisition.  On  the  10th  of  June  I  was  for  a  short 
time  within  the  Confederate  lines,  and  learned  that  Brecken- 
ridge  with  his  division  had  left  Lee's  army,  and  had  gone, 
according  to  all  report,  to  face  Hunter  at  Lynchburg. 

On  the  night  of  the  llth  I  was  ordered  by  General  Meade  to 
report  to  Colonel  Chapman,  commanding  one  of  the  brigades  of 
Wilson's  cavalry  division.  Not  knowing  what  was  wanted  I  tied 
my  Confederate  uniform  in  a  gum-blanket  to  my  saddle,  took 

267 


268        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  Enfield  and  accoutrements,  put  my  field-glass  in  my  haver- 
sack, and  rode  down  toward  Bottom's  Bridge.  That  the  work 
required  of  me  had  some  connection  with  the  contemplated 
movement  of  the  army  to  the  south  side  of  the  James,  I  had 
little  doubt.  I  was  being  sent  to  the  extreme  left ;  the  army 
would  move  down  the  Chickahominy ;  one  column  of  it  would 
no  doubt  take  the  road  I  was  on  now.  I  had  not  been  at  Bot- 
tom's Bridge  since  Hooker's  division  had  reached  it  in  May, 
1862,  and  below  that  point  the  country  was  as  strange  to  me 
as  it  was  to  any  other  man  who  had  never  been  in  it.  I  was 
therefore  greatly  puzzled  about  what  General  Meade  wanted 
done ;  he  had  simply  given  me  a  sealed  despatch,  saying,  "  Find 
Colonel  Chapman  at  Bottom's  Bridge  ;  give  him  this,  and  await 
his  orders."  The  general's  headquarters  had  been  so  crowded 
upon  by  orderlies,  couriers,  aides,  and  even  high  generals,  that 
I  did  not  dare  to  ask  him  one  question ;  I  had  simply  bowed 
and  retired. 

My  way  lighted  by  the  growing  moon,  I  rode  along  tow- 
ard Dispatch  Station,  imagining  things.  What  could  be 
wanted  ?  Why  should  I  be  sent  to  Colonel  Chapman  rather 
than  to  General  Wilson  ?  Why  not  to  General  Warren,  only 
a  mile  or  two  in  rear  of  Bottom's  Bridge  ?  This  mixing  me 
up  with  cavalry  was  an  innovation.  I  certainly  could  not 
guide  the  cavalry  anywhere,  except,  perhaps,  toward  Williams- 
burg,  and  for  that  they  would  need  no  guide ;  there  was  no 
enemy  in  that  direction,  and  the  turnpike  was  broad.  Lydia 
was  yet  at  White  House.  The  base  of  the  army  would  be 
changed  to  City  Point,  and  I  was  hoping  to  see  her  soon. 
Could  my  presently  required  services  have  any  relation  to 
City  Point  ?  Certainly  not.  I  had  never  been  at  that  place. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  deliver  the  de- 
spatch and  bring  back  an  answer  to  General  Meade ;  his  saying 
"  Await  Colonel  Chapman's  orders,"  might  mean  nothing  more 
than  if  he  had  bidden  me  to  wait  for  a  reply.  So,  although 
yet  somewhat  uneasy,  I  tried  to  be  content,  and  interested 


SERVING  CAVALRY  269 

myself  in  remarking,  even  in  the  night,  the  changes  which  had 
taken  place  along  the  road  since  the  last  time,  which  indeed 
was  the  only  time,  I  had  been  over  it.  On  this  road  I  had 
passed  in  the  morning  of  May  22,  1862,  in  order  to  reach  Dr. 
Khayme's  camp  near  New  Bridge.  I  had  bidden  good-by  then 
to  the  Eleventh  Massachusetts;  I  thought  that  I  should  re- 
turn to  it  in  a  few  days,  but  Providence  willed  otherwise,  and 
set  me  to  work  for  Fitz  John  Porter,  and  afterward  for  Stone- 
wall Jackson.  In  '62  as  well  as  in  '64,  this  road  had 
been  trodden  by  armies  in  battle  and  in  flight.  Over  it  — 
a  part  of  it  at  least  —  Porter's  routed  corps  had  withdrawn  to 
the  west  side  of  the  Chickahominy  after  the  disaster  of  Gaines's 
Mill.  The  country  had  been  desolated  by  three  years  of  war. 
Graves  were  everywhere,  and  no  doubt  the  moon  was  now  look- 
ing down  on  living  thousands  who  should  soon  fill  other  graves. 

I  crossed  the  York  River  railroad,  turned  to  my  right  at 
Eppes's  house,  soon  found  the  First  Vermont  cavalry,  and  was 
directed  to  the  headquarters  of  the  brigade. 

Colonel  Chapman  read  the  message ;  then  he  said :  — 

"  You  are  accustomed  to  such  work  ?  " 

"  What  work,  Colonel  ?  " 

"  What  did  General  Meade  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Only  that  I  was  to  report  to  you,  sir." 

"  Strange,"  said  he ;  "  one  would  certainly  think  from  what 
he  says  that  you  know  all  about  it." 

"  The  general  was  very  busy  when  he  gave  me  the  despatch," 
said  I. 

"And  you  positively  know  nothing  about  it ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  a  word,  sir,"  I  replied,  with  some  wonder,  and  a  little 
annoyance  at  being  compelled  to  reassert  the  truth. 

The  colonel  seemed  to  be  thinking  very  seriously.  At  length 
he  said :  "  I  presume  that  General  Meade  intended  to  instruct 
you,  and  that  in  the  press  of  business  he  forgot.  Have  you 
had  experience  in  the  enemy's  lines  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Colonel." 


270        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Are  you  ready  for  more  work  of  that  sort  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that  is  my  unhappy  trade." 

An  orderly  had  lighted  a  twisted  paper,  but  had  extinguished 
it  as  soon  as  the  colonel  had  read  the  despatch.  We  were  now 
in  darkness.  Colonel  Chapman  moved  off  a  few  yards,  hinting 
to  me  to  follow  him.  When  we  were  alone,  he  said  in  a  low 
voice :  "  I  feel  compelled  to  tell  you  something  of  the  contents 
of  this  despatch,  especially  as  I  am  confident  that  General 
Meade  believes  that  you  are  already  informed.  Have  you 
heard  rumours  of  a  contemplated  movement  of  the  army?" 

"Yes,  Colonel;  it  is  well  known  at  headquarters  that  the 
army  is  going  to  move  by  the  left  and  cross  the  James." 

"  The  movement  begins  to-morrow  night,"  said  he.  "  We 
here  are  on  the  left  of  the  army's  present  position.  We  are 
to  move  farther  to  the  left,  and  make  a  feint  of  advancing  in 
order  to  deceive  Lee.  While  we  do  this  the  army  behind  us 
will  cross  the  lower  bridges  on  the  Chickahominy  and  march 
to  the  James  ;  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Colonel,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  don't  see  how  that  affects  me 
individually." 

"  I  am  coming  to  that,"  said  he ;  "  you  are  to  precede  this 
brigade  in  order  to  let  us  know  how  far  we  may  advance  without 
danger  of  being  cut  off." 

I  could  not  reply  to  this  speech.  A  very  strange  duty  was 
imposed.  I  did  not  see  why  a  few  mounted  men,  sent  out 
ahead  and  on  the  flanks  of  Chapman's  brigade,  could  not  do 
such  work  better  than  I  could.  The  colonel  observed  my 
hesitation. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Nothing,  Colonel,"  I  replied,  realizing  at  once  the  utter 
uselessness  of  words. 

"  Then  you  are  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  know  the  country  between  Long  Bridge  and  Rich- 
mond ?  " 


SERVING  CAVALRY  271 

"  Not  at  all,  Colonel.  I  never  was  at  Long  Bridge,  and  was 
never  on  the  road  from  Long  Bridge  to  Richmond." 

"  This  brigade  will  march  to  Long  Bridge  to-inorrow,  perhaps 
not  before  night.  Long  Bridge  is  the  point  from  which  we 
will  advance  on  the  Richmond  road.  I  could  tell  you  these 
things  to-morrow,  and  show  you  maps,  but  I  am  informing  you 
now,  in  order  that  you  may  determine  whether  you  will  en- 
deavour to  get  into  the  rebel  lines  directly  in  front  of  us  here, 
or  on  the  contrary  go  forward  from  Long  Bridge.  If  you  want 
to  cross  here  I  will  show  you  my  map." 

"  What  infantry  force  of  the  enemy  is  posted  beyond  here, 
Colonel  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  None  at  all,"  said  he,  "  unless  it  has  taken  position  since 
dark.  The  river  across  here  is  picketed  only  by  cavalry,  so 
far  as  I  know.  Hill's  corps  is  the  nearest  infantry,  and  it  is 
still  on  this  side  of  the  Chickahominy,  with  perhaps  only  a 
regiment  or  two  on  the  other  side." 

"  Please  show  me  the  map,  sir." 

The  colonel  called  his  orderly  and  bade  him  get  a  torch. 
Some  little  delay  occurred,  but  soon  we  had  a  light  and  saw 
the  lines  on  the  map. 

"  Long  Bridge,  you  see,"  said  the  colonel,  "  is  at  least  five 
miles  from  here.  The  point  to  which  we  must  advance  is  here 
at  Riddell's  Shop,  five  miles  southwest  of  Long  Bridge.  While 
we  march  to  Riddell's  Shop  the  infantry  will  cross  at  Long 
Bridge,  and  at  Jones's  Bridge,  still  farther  below,  and  march 
down  between  the  Chickahominy  and  the  James.  As  you  see  by 
the  intersection  of  all  these  main  roads  at  the  shop,  we  shall 
be  in  a  position  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  learning  of  the 
movement ;  but  it  may  be  that  we  shall  advance  farther  than 
Riddell's  Shop  unless  we  learn  from  you  that  Hill's  troops,  or 
any  other  infantry  troops,  are  advancing  against  us." 

"I  understand,  Colonel,"  said  I,  "and  I  think  I'd  better  cross 
the  river  here  if  possible,  and  save  myself  the  long  detour 
below." 


272        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Just  as  you  wish ;  can  I  help  you  in  any  way  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  glad,  sir,  for  you  to  take  care  of  my  horse  and 
to  get  me  two  days'  rations." 

The  orderly  soon  brought  me  some  hardtack  and  raw  pork. 

"  Now,"  said  the  colonel,  "  how  are  you  going  to  get  across  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  wade  the  river,  sir." 

"  I  can  help  you  in  that,"  said  he,  "by  sending  a  man  to  show 
you  the  way.  There  are  some  places  in  the  swamp  that  are 
very  deep." 

I  accepted  this  help  very  gladly  and  gratefully. 

"  After  you  get  across,  what  will  be  your  plan  ?  "  asked  the 
colonel. 

"  I  am  not  sure  yet,  sir,  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that 
I  ought  to  find  the  nearest  infantry  and  stay  with  them, 
or  near  them,  in  order  to  report  to  you  if  they  begin  to 
move." 

"  But,  if  they  begin  to  move,  you  will  hardly  have  time," 
said  Colonel  Chapman. 

"  I  think  one  man,  sir,  can  outstrip  a  column  very  easily." 

"  Then  you  expect  to  go  up  the  river  instead  of  down  it 
after  you  get  across  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  I  determine  on  the  plan  I  mentioned." 

"  But  suppose  infantry  advances  from  the  direction  of  Rich- 
mond straight  upon  us  on  the  Long  Bridge  road  ?  " 

"  I  was  hoping,  Colonel,  that  you  would  take  care  of  that 
with  your  vedettes  and  pickets." 

"  Of  course,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  employ  all  means  at  my  com- 
mand, but  I  think  you'd  better  look  first  to  the  Long  Bridge 
road  beyond  Riddell's  Shop." 

"Colonel,"  said  I,  "I  am  going  to  dress  as  a  Confederate 
infantryman  ;  anybody  who  should  see  me  on  the  Long  Bridge 
road,  where  you  say  there  is  no  Confederate  infantry,  would 
naturally  suspect,  and  might  give  me  trouble ;  but  I  can  go  up 
the  river  and  mingle  with  Hill's  corps  without  suspicion." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  do  as  you  wish ;  on6  man  can't  do  every- 


SERVING  CAVALRY  273 

thing ;  yet  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would  examine  the 
Long  Bridge  road  beyond  Riddell's  Shop." 

"  General  Meade  placed  me  under  your  orders,  Colonel,  and 
I  shall  do  as  you  say.  Shall  I  return  and  report  after  I  exam- 
ine the  road  beyond  Riddell's  Shop  ?  " 

"  No,  don't  take  time  for  that  unless  you  find  an  infantry 
force.  If  I  do  not  see  you  by  to-morrow  midnight  I  shall  sup- 
pose that  you  have  found  nothing  but  cavalry  west  of  us,  and 
that  you  have  gone  on  north." 

I  changed  my  clothing,  left  my  horse,  and  set  out  with  the 
detailed  man,  whom  the  colonel  commanded  to  obey  my 
orders,  and  by  whose  advice  I  decided  to  attempt  a  crossing 
between  Bottom's  Bridge  and  the  railroad.  This  man  —  Rey- 
nolds was  his  name,  he  said  —  proved  to  be  loquacious.  He 
kept  up  a  jabber,  jabber,  jabber,  as  we  went  on,  that  made  me 
nervous.  I  was  trying  to  think,  and  the  fellow's  noisy  volu- 
bility distracted  me.  Yet  I  stood  it,  for  I  wanted  him  not 
only  to  show  me  the  fording-place,  but  to  go  across  it  with  me. 
I  had  no  fear  that  beyond  the  river  he  would  continue  his 
noise.  In  the  edge  of  the  swamp  we  found  a  vedette  who 
told  us  that  nothing  had  occurred  to  alarm  him.  No  sounds 
came  from  the  west  of  the  river.  The  ground  was  low,  and  in 
some  places  miry,  but  Reynolds  seemed  to  understand  his 
business  pretty  well,  and  led  forward  without  hesitation. 
Soon  we  were  on  the  bank  of  the  stream.  I  asked  him  in  a 
whisper  if  the  Confederate  vedettes  were  in  the  swamp  itself. 
He  replied  that  in  the  daytime  they  were  not,  and  he  did  not 
know  where  they  were  at  night.  I  asked  if  they  were  numer- 
ous. He  could  not  tell,  he  said,  how  thick  they  were,  but  he 
did  not  believe  there  were  any  either  in  the  swamp  or  on  the 
edge  of  it,  except  near  the  main  thoroughfares. 

"  It  would  take  a  dam  sight  more  cavalry  than  Lee's  got," 
said  he,  "  to  picket  this  river  as  it  ought  to  be  picketed,  espe- 
cially since  Hampton  has  gone  after  Sheridan.  You  know,"  he 
continued,  "  that  Sheridan's  gone  off  again,  except  our  division." 


274        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Gone  where  ?  " 

"  Towards  Gordonsville." 

I  was  hoping  that  I  should  find  no  Confederate  pickets  at 
all. 

"  Is  this  the  place  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  little  lower  down." 

He  led  the  way  through  the  bushes  for  forty  yards  or  more, 
and  stopped  again. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  he. 

"  Have  you  been  across  it  ?  * 

«  Yes." 

«  How  deep  is  it  ?  " 

"  About  waist-deep." 

"  I  bet  it's  over  your  head." 

"What'llyoubet?" 

"  Bet  you  a  dollar." 

"  Done  ;  hand  me  the  money." 

"  Who  is  to  decide  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  give  you  my  word  that  I  have  been  across  there  and  the 
water  did  not  come  above  my  waist." 

"  But  it  may  be  deeper  now ;  come,  go  across  with  me,  and  if 
the  water  is  as  you  say  I  will  give  you  a  dollar." 

He  now  saw  what  I  meant,  and  replied :  — 

"An  easy  dollar  to  earn.  You  won't  make  me  go  any 
farther  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  will  let  you  off  when  we  get  through  the 
swamp." 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  and  began  to  strip. 

The  water  was  no  deeper  than  he  had  declared  it  to  be,  and 
we  had  no  trouble  whatever  in  crossing.  The  mud,  however, 
was  very  difficult,  and  on  the  farther  bank  clung  to  my  feet, 
and  caused  annoyance  in  dressing;  it  was  clear  that  horses 
could  not  ford  at  this  place.  Reynolds  was  mute,  replying  to 
my  whispers  in  lower  tones  than  my  own.  A  narrow  path 
wound  through  the  bushes  southward.  It  was  very  difficult 


SERVING  CAVALRY  275 

to  follow,  but  after  much  groping  about,  we  stood  on  the  edge 
of  the  swamp,  and  saw  open  ground  beyond.  Parallel  with 
the  swamp,  and  at  its  edge,  I  could  see  a  narrow  road,  and  on 
the  ground  what  seemed  the  remains  of  a  camp-fire,  one  or  two 
small  sparks  yet  glowing  in  the  darkness. 

"  What  do  you  think  that  is  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  I  think  it's  fox-fire,1 "  he  replied. 

I  thought  it  was  fire  and  told  him  so. 

"Well,"  said  he  ;  "let's  blow  it;  that  will  show." 

We  got  down  on  our  knees,  and  Reynolds  gave  a  big  blow, 
and  at  the  very  moment  when  it  became  evident  that  he  was 
right  in  his  conjecture,  the  shrill  neigh  of  a  horse  sounded  in 
the  road  within  two  rods  of  us,  and  at  once  the  clank  of  a 
sabre  was  heard  as  a  Confederate  vedette  turned  and  rode  off 
full  tilt.  At  the  noise,  both  of  us  had  darted  into  the  bushes, 
where  we  lay  for  a  long  time,  speechless  and  still.  We  heard 
the  horse  galloping  up  the  road.  No  doubt  the  "  fox-fire  "  had 
saved  us  from  an  actual  encounter. 

"  Give  me  that  dollar,"  said  Reynolds,  at  last ;  "  I  want  to 
get  out  o'  here." 

1  Phosphorus.    [ED.] 


XXV 

ON   LEE'S    RIGHT    FLANK 

«'  If  this  were  played  upon  the  stage  now,  I  could  condemn  it  as  an  im- 
probable fiction."  —  SHAKKSFKA.HE. 

SUNRISE  found  me  three  miles  south  of  Bottom's  Bridge.  I 
had  taken  a  few  hours'  rest.  White  Oak  Swamp  was  around 
me,  that  swamp  which  had  proved  at  once  McClellan's  annoy- 
ance and  safety  while  retreating  before  Lee  and  Jackson  in 
'62.  Thus  far  I  had  not  seen  a  Confederate,  but  I  had 
heard  cavalry  on  the  road  at  my  right  and  was  afraid  of  them, 
for  a  straggling  infantryman  in  this  quarter  would  be  at  once 
stopped  and  probably  put  under  guard.  I  had  passed  houses 
—  leaving  them  at  a  distance.  This  part  of  the  country  had 
been  subjected  to  no  general  distress  since  '62;  raiders 
had  gone  over  it,  it  is  true,  but  no  great  army ;  the  fields  were 
green  with  young  corn,  and  yellow  with  ripening  wheat.  Be- 
hind me  far  away  rumbled  the  guns  of  Lee  and  of  Grant,  still 
facing  each  other  in  the  lines  of  Cold  Harbor.  No  doubt 
Meade  will  make  a  big  noise  to-day,  for  to-night  the  march 
begins. 

My  first  purpose  was  to  comply  with  Colonel  Chapman's 
wish.  I  would  get  to  the  Long  Bridge  road  and  advance  some 
miles  toward  Richmond.  In  the  afternoon  I  would  go  north- 
ward and  cross  the  Charles  City  road ;  if  no  infantry  were  on 
these  roads  I  would  then  continue  north  and  find  the  right  of 
Lee's  army.  Chapman's  brigade  would  not  advance  to  Rid- 
dell's  Shop  until  the  morrow.  I  had  more  than  twenty-four 
hours  for  the  work. 

276 


ON  LEE'S  RIGHT   FLANK  277 

I  went  through  White  Oak  Swamp.  Beyond  it  there  were 
many  farmhouses.  To  meet  an  aged  countryman  would  not  be 
very  risky,  but  I  knew  the  probability  of  finding  in  one  of 
these  farmers  a  maimed  and  discharged  Confederate,  so  I 
accepted  all  difficulties  that  would  serve  to  keep  me  hidden. 
But  I  lost  time,  and  it  was  past  eight  o'clock  when  I  crossed 
the  Long  Bridge  road.  In  the  dust  here  I  saw  many  hoofprints, 
but  no  tracks  made  by  the  shoes  of  men.  I  was  about  four 
miles  from  Long  Bridge  ;  a  mile  or  so  to  the  west  was  Riddell's 
Shop,  hard  by  the  junction  of  three  main  roads. 

At  nine  o'clock  I  was  nearing  the  junction.  From  the 
bushes  on  the  edge  of  the  road  I  could  see  cavalry,  not 
on  picket,  but  at  rest  as  though  in  camp.  I  made  a  detour 
and  reached  the  Long  Bridge  road  again  —  nearly  a  mile 
beyond  the  junction  —  passing  over  an  old  battle-ground  on 
the  way.1 

Now  I  could  have  gone  on,  without  hindrance,  into  Rich- 
mond. This  road  had  certainly  not  been  trodden  by  infantry 
for  a  long  time  past.  I  must  cease  to  go  west;  I  must  go 
north  and  find  the  right  of  Lee's  infantry.  I  crossed  to  the 
north  side  of  the  road ;  there  was  a  farmhouse  plainly  visible 
in  a  field  at  my  left,  but  I  avoided  it.  I  could  hear  distant 
guns  at  the  south ;  no  doubt  Butler  and  Beauregard  were  at  it 
again,  somewhere  between  me  and  Petersburg. 

A  narrow  path  ran  from  the  house  to  the  woods  in  its  rear, 
where  I  was  standing.  In  the  path  I  saw  a  man  coming.  He 
was  in  his  shirt-sleeves  —  apparently  a  farmer.  Thinking 
that  he  had  already  seen  me,  I  waited,  for  I  must  not  seem  to 
avoid  him. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  he. 

"  Same  to  you,  sir,"  I  responded. 

He  looked  at  me  a  little  curiously,  I  thought. 

irThe  battle-ground  of  Frayser's  Farm,  or  Glendale,  fought  July  2d,  1862. 
Mr.  Berwick  does  not  say  how  he  could  recognize  a  battle-ground ;  probably 
he  saw  trees  that  had  been  cut  down  by  cannon  shot.  [ED.] 


278        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Can  you  let  me  have  something  to  eat  ?  "  I  asked,  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment  converting  myself  into  a  straggling  for- 
ager far  from  the  lines  of  his  starving  comrades. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  said  he ;  "  but  we're  almost  et  out  o'  house 
an'  home  already." 

"  I'm  not  a-beggin',"  I  said ;  "  I'll  pay  you." 

"  We  don't  take  any  pay  from  our  soldiers ;  come  on  to  the 
house.  I'll  see  what  we  can  do  for  you." 

We  walked  up  the  path,  he  leading. 

"  You  don't  belong  to  the  cavalry  ?  "  he  asked,  assertively. 

"No;  I'm  a  long  ways  from  my  brigade." 

u  Come  out  a-foragin'  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Boys  not  getting  much  to  eat  now,  I  know.  I  sent  a  box 
to  camp  last  week  for  some  of  'em." 

We  had  reached  the  house.  He  led  me  into  a  clean  room ; 
in  the  middle  was  a  small  table  with  a  few  books  on  it.  He 
asked  me  to  sit  down,  and  went  to  the  back  door  and  called, 
"  Missis  Darby ! " 

Abstractedly  I  picked  up  a  book  —  I  don't  know  what  book 
it  was ;  perhaps  I  then  did  not  see  the  title  —  and  found,  on 
the  fly  leaf,  the  name  Nathan  Enroughty.1  Instantly  my  mem- 
ory went  back  to  the  time  when  Gregg's  brigade  was  in  camp 

1  "  I  testify  that  when  ordered  to  conduct  Major-General  Magruder  into  the 
Quaker  road,  on  the  morning  of  July  1, 1862, 1  did  so  conduct  his  forces,  lead- 
ing him  into  what  I  had  always,  and  do  still  believe,  to  be  the  Quaker  road, 
being  a  road  about  two  miles  in  length,  leaving  the  Long  Bridge  road  to  the 
right  about  three  hundred  yards  above  Mr.  Nathan  Enroughty's  gate,  and 
entering  the  Charles  City  River  road  at  Tilghman's  gate,  about  one  half-mile 

below  Sweeney's  Tavern. 

"  S.  B.  SWEENEY." 

R.  S.  Sweeney  testified  as  follows :  — 

"  .  .  . ;  that  this  (Quaker)  road  connects  the  Long  Bridge  road  with  the 
Charles  City  River  road,  leaving  the  former  near  Nathan  Darby's  (Enroughty's) 
gate  and  entering  the  latter  near  the  gate  of  Curl's  Neck  farm. 

"  A.  G.  DICKINSON, 

"Assistant  Adjutant-General*" 
From  "  War  Records  ":  Vol.  XI,  Part  II,  p.  676,  and  p.  684.    [ED.] 


ON   LEE'S   RIGHT   FLANK  279 

on  the  Chickahominy  in  June,  '62,  and  far  back  of  that  time 
—  even  to  my  childhood  days.  I  had  heard,  two  years  before, 
that  there  was  a  family  in  this  county  whose  name  was  spelled 
Enroughty  and  pronounced  Darby,  and  I  could  clearly  remem- 
ber that  when  a  boy  at  school  in  Charleston  I  had  seen  in 
the  humorous  column  of  the  Mercury  a  paragraph  which  gave 
the  same  wonderful  information.  I  had  never  believed  the 
story,  but  here  was  something  that  staggered  me.  I  laid  the 
book  back  on  the  table. 

When  my  host  returned  he  brought  some  cold  food  —  a 
"pone"  of  corn-bread,  a  few  biscuits,  and  a  joint  of  cooked 
bacon.  I  stuffed  it  into  my  haversack,  which  I  feared  showed 
too  great  proportions  already  in  the  eyes  of  my  friend. 

"  You  must  take  pay,"  said  I,  offering  Confederate  money  — 
a  dollar  bill. 

He  refused.  Then  he  said,  "Did  you  come  from  Rich- 
mond ?  " 

"  I  haven't  been  in  Richmond  since  I  was  there  in  the  hos- 
pital," said  I,  rising. 

"  What  hospital  ?  " 

"  I  was  first  in  Byrd  Island." 

"I  know  the  place;  an  old  tobacco  factory.  Were  you 
shot?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  shot  at  Gaines's  Mill,  two  years  ago.  Our  lines 
are  almost  in  the  same  place  now." 

He  was  walking  with  me  back  to  the  path. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"  South  Carolina." 

"  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Berwick." 

«B-e-r-w-i-c-k?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  My  name's  Darby ;  now  spell  it." 

"  E-n-r-o-u-g-h-t-y." 

"  Yes ;  you've  seen  it  in  print ! "  he  exclaimed ;  "  how  many 


280        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

men  in  a  million  do  you  reckon  could  spell  my  name  if  they 
never  saw  it  ?  " 

"  Not  one  in  a  million  million,"  said  I. 

He  laughed  heartily. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Richmond  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Thirteen  miles,"  he  replied. 

"And  how  far  to  Cold  Harbor ?  " 

"  Never  was  there  in  my  life.  Reckon  it's  twelve  or  fifteen 
miles.  You  ought  to  know  better'n  I  do." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  came  in  a  roundabout  way." 

"  Anything  new  up  that  way  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  They  say  Sheridan's  gone  on  a  raid  toward  Gordonsville, 
and  that  Hampton's  gone  after  him." 

"  Ain't  Gary's  brigade  under  Hampton  ?  " 

« I  think  not." 

"Well,  he's  got  the  Hampton  Legion." 

«  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  Right  down  the  road.     You  must  have  seen  some  of  'em." 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  but  they  didn't  see  me,  I  hope.  I  didn't  want 
to  be  stopped  by  any  cavalry.  Are  there  no  infantry  troops 
about  here?" 

"  Not  till  you  get  most  to  Richmond,  and  then  they  are  the 
reserves  —  the  old  men  and  boys." 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  infantry  at  all,"  said  I. 

Mr.  Enroughty  was  very  friendly,  and  wanted  to  talk  more, 
but  I  had  to  say  good-by.  He  showed  me  a  path  through  the 
woods,  leading,  he  said,  to  the  Charles  City  road.  This  path 
I  took,  and  carefully  made  my  way  northward,  pausing  occa- 
sionally to  rest,  for  I  was  in  no  great  haste.  It  seemed  to  me 
now  that  there  was  no  need  to  tire  myself  out  by  going  far  to 
the  north  and  waiting  with  Lee's  infantry.  It  would  be  better 
from  every  point  of  view  to  take  some  position  where  I  could 
watch  both  the  Charles  City  road  to  Richmond,  and  the  branch 
of  the  Charles  City  road  running  south  from  Bottom's  Bridge 
through  White  Oak  Swamp,  for  on  one  of  these  two  roads 


ON  LEE'S  RIGHT  FLANK  281 

Lee's  infantry  must  move  if  it  would  reach  Eiddell's  Shop. 
If  I  should  go  north  twelve  or  fifteen  miles,  as  Mr.  Darby  had 
called  it,  and  reach  the  right  of  Lee's  infantry,  then  I  should 
have  to  come  back  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  more.  Besides,  if  I 
should  go  on  up  the  Chickahominy  toward  Cold  Harbor,  a 
column  of  infantry  might  reach  Kiddell's  Shop  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Kichmond,  without  my  knowing  it.  The  path  which 
Mr.  Enroughty  had  put  me  on,  reached  the  Charles  City  road 
in  about  two  miles  —  very  nearly  at  the  place  where  that  road 
crosses  the  "White  Oak  Swamp.  I  supposed  that  directly  east 
down  the  swamp  to  the  Bottom's  Bridge  road  was  about  three 
miles,  and  I  wanted  to  get  to  some  place  between  these  two 
roads,  say  a  mile  and  a  half  from  either,  where  I  could  watch 
both.  The  weather  was  very  hot,  and  the  roads  were  dusty, 
and  I  fully  counted  on  being  able  to  see,  a  mile  and  a  half 
away,  a  column  of  dust  made  by  a  great  body  of  marching 
troops.  Moreover,  I  could  use  my  glass. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  at  length 
I  selected  a  position  suitable  to  my  purpose.  On  a  hill  in  the 
midst  of  the  wood  I  found  a  tall  tree  and  climbed  it.  I  have 
since  learned  that  a  man  named  Fisher  lived  in  a  house  near 
by.  I  sat  in  a  thicket  some  distance  from  my  tree,  which  I 
climbed  almost  hourly  and  looked  in  every  direction.  I  was 
well  provided  with  food  and  water,  and  really  enjoyed  the 
rest.  The  afternoon  passed  away  and  night  came,  and  I  re- 
mained in  my  position. 

On  the  morning  of  the  13th  I  made  my  way  to  the  Bottom's 
Bridge  road  in  order  to  see  if  any  infantry  had  moved  in  the 
night.  All  the  tracks  in  the  dust  had  been  made  by  horses. 
I  returned  to  my  lookout,  and  went  on  past  it,  and  reached  the 
main  Charles  City  road.  There  was  no  sign  that  any  move- 
ment had  been  made  upon  it,  and  I  again  returned  to  my 
position  near  Fisher's.  The  day  was  wearing  away.  Doubt- 
less by  this  time  Colonel  Chapman's  brigade  had  advanced  to 
Riddell's,  in  a  bee  line  two  miles  south  from  me,  and  the  Army 


282        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

of  the  Potomac  was  no  doubt  crossing  at  Jones's  Bridge  and 
Long  Bridge,  and  pursuing  its  way  to  the  James,  masked  by 
the  cavalry  near  me. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  thought  I  heard 
musketry  in  a  southeast  direction,  but  was  not  sure.  I  sup- 
posed that  a  skirmish  was  going  on  between  Chapman's  bri- 
gade and  Gary's  force.  I  hastily  climbed  the  tree;  I  could 
see  nothing  in  the  south  or  southeast,  but  to  the  northeast  I 
could  easily  distinguish  dust  rising  above  the  trees.  I  watched 
this  dust  a  short  time  until  I  became  sure  it  was  getting 
nearer.  Cavalry  or  infantry,  one  or  the  other,  was  advancing. 
I  hastily  came  down  from  the  tree.  The  skirmishing  in  the 
southeast  was  louder.  I  made  for  the  Bottom's  Bridge  road, 
bending  to  the  right  so  that  I  crossed  the  swamp  diagonally, 
and  reached  the  road  some  half-mile  only  from  its  junction  with 
the  road  to  Long  Bridge.  When  I  came  in  sight  of  it,  it  was 
crowded  with  cavalry,  retiring  in  disorder,  and  I  hid  myself 
in  the  bushes  to  let  them  go  by.  The  first  men  that  I  saw 
were  urging  their  horses  to  great  speed,  but  the  rear  of  the 
scattered  column  was  retiring  very  slowly,  and  I  inferred  that 
there  was  no  pursuit.  The  noise  of  fighting  had  ceased.  And 
now,  but  for  that  column  of  dust  I  had  seen,  I  should  have 
gone  at  once  to  the  Long  Bridge  road  and  reported  to  Colonel 
Chapman,  but  I  wanted  to  see  first  whether  the  column  coming 
was  infantry,  so  I  began  to  go  north  again,  keeping  some  two 
hundred  yards  from  the  road  and  following  after  the  slowly 
retreating  groups  of  Confederate  cavalry.  I  had  gone  perhaps 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  when  1  saw,  between  me  and  the  road,  the 
flank  of  a  line  of  skirmishers,  and  at  once  I  knew  that  this 
was  no  dismounted  cavalry.  Just  here  the  bushes  were  thick, 
and  I  had  no  fear  of  being  seen,  unless,  indeed,  the  skirmish- 
line  should  suddenly  be  ordered  to  flank  to  the  right,  in  which 
case  my  situation  would  become  perilous.  Yet  even  then,  I 
thought,  if  I  should  be  seen,  I  should  be  taken  for  a  straggler, 
and  be  ordered  into  the  ranks,  or  else  passed  by  as  a  thing  of 


ON  LEE'S  RIGHT  FLANK  283 

no  interest.  While  I  was  thus  thinking  I  became  aware  that 
there  were  a  few  other  men  off  in  the  woods ;  they  had  passed 
around  my  position  —  some  flankers  thrown  out  to  guard  the 
right  of  the  line  which  continued  to  advance  south  with  great 
rapidity.  I  had  not  been  near  enough  to  see  the  faces  of  the 
men,  but  I  had  seen  long  rifles,  and  cartridge-boxes,  and  haver- 
sacks, and  blankets  rolled  around  their  shoulders,  and  knew 
that  these  men  were  of  Lee's  infantry.  I  regretted  greatly 
my  previous  decision,  and  wished  that  I  had  gone  south  and 
reported  to  Colonel  Chapman,  for  now  it  seemed  impossible 
for  me  to  reach  him  before  this  line  should  strike  his  force, 
which  was  no  doubt  in  some  degree  disordered  in  consequence 
of  the  action  in  which  it  had  been  recently  engaged.  I  had  to 
act  quickly.  I  rose  and  followed  the  skirmish-line.  A  few 
yards  farther  south  the  woods  were  more  open,  and  I  now 
saw  the  line  distinctly,  with  its  flankers  closed  up  on  its  right 
—  a  compact  line  of  skirmishers,  five  paces  apart,  advancing 
before  me  and  cutting  me  off  from  our  troops.  I  ran  on  for- 
ward, for  the  skirmishers  were  now  at  the  double  quick.  I 
was  hoping  that  the  line  would  swing  to  its  left,  in  which 
case,  by  going  straight  forward,  I  could  pass  it  in  safety.  But 
the  line  swung  to  the  right  rather  than  to  the  left,  and  the 
cracking  of  rifles  was  heard,  and  the  line  kept  on,  and  now 
I  distinctly  saw  Lieutenant  Brunson,  whom  I  had  seen  on 
the  evening  of  the  5th  of  May  in  command  of  a  company 
of  McGowan's  sharp-shooters,  and  I  knew  that  just  before  me 
were  old  comrades,  many  of  whom  would  perhaps  recognize 
me,  and  then  I  saw,  also,  Lieutenant  Hasell  in  command  of 
Company  A  of  the  sharp-shooters.  The  men  were  advancing 
so  fast  that  I  knew  our  cavalry  had  not  been  able  to  stand 
before  them.  It  was  a  running  fight  for  a  mile  or  more.  I 
could  have  stopped  at  any  time,  and  let  the  battalion  distance 
me,  but  fear  of  recognition  had  now  gone ;  even  if  I  should  be 
recognized,  what  harm  could  result  ?  Unless,  indeed,  some  old 
friend  of  Company  H,  now  in  the  battalion,  should  see  me, 


284        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

and  see  me  distinctly,  no  one  would  know  that  I  was  not  a 
member  of  some  other  company  than  his.  The  battalion 
crossed  the  Long  Bridge  road  perhaps  half  a  mile  east  of 
Riddell's  Shop;  then  I  heard  Lieutenant  Hasell  order  Com- 
pany A  to  left  wheel,  and  I  saw  some  of  his  men  running  hard 
through  a  small  field  in  front  to  preserve  the  alignment.  The 
Federals  were  now  pounding  away  with  artillery,  but  the 
skirmishers  continued  to  advance.  I  saw  no  line  of  battle. 
If  McGowan's  brigade  and  Wilcox's  division  were  following, 
they  were  not  following  with  sufficient  speed  to  keep  within 
supporting  distance  of  the  battalion. 

It  was  past  five  o'clock.  I  saw  a  man  before  me  drop  his 
gun  and  fall.  The  line  went  on.  I  reached  the  wounded 
man  and  paused  to  look  at  him.  It  was  Chappell.  I  bent 
over  him. 

"  Are  you  much  hurt,  Chappell  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  What !  Is  it  you,  Berwick  ?  I  didn't  know  you  were  in 
the  battalion." 

"  I'm  not,  and  I  didn't  know  you  were  in  it,"  said  I. 

"  You  know  I  told  you  I  was  going  to  join  it  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. No,  I'm  not  hurt  very  badly,"  said  he.  "  I  have  got  a 
shot  in  the  leg  that  will  lay  me  up  a  month  or  two  possibly. 
I  know  I  can't  walk.  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  where  the  brigade  is  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  is  in  the  rear  somewhere ;  but  why  are  you  not 
with  it  ?  " 

I  got  him  some  water  and  offered  to  remain  with  him,  but 
he  said  that  he  did  not  need  any  help. 

"  But  you  might  be  left  alone  in  the  woods  here,"  said  I. 

He  consented  to  my  helping  him,  and  I  lifted  him  to  his 
feet.  He  put  his  left  arm  around  my  neck,  and  together  we 
managed  to  hobble  through  the  woods  toward  the  rear,  but 
very  slowly.  Meantime,  the  battalion  in  front  was  still  going 
forward,  and  we  could  hear  the  men  cheering  as  they  advanced. 

"  I've  not  seen  you  since  the  twelfth  of  May,  Chappell." 


ON  LEE'S   RIGHT  FLANK  285 

"  That  was  a  hell  of  a  time,"  said  he.  "  Say,  Berwick,  I 
believe  I've  got  to  lie  down  awhile." 

I  eased  him  to  the  ground  and  staid  with  him,  for  I  knew 
there  would  be  no  good  in  my  trying  at  this  time  to  get  away. 
No  report  of  mine  to  Colonel  Chapman  could  now  change  the 
result  of  this  day's  business.  I  looked  at  Chappell's  wound. 
A  bullet  had  passed  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his  right  thigh. 
I  bound  it  up  the  best  I  could  with  one  of  my  shirt-sleeves. 
He  was  not  losing  much  blood. 

"Chappell,  you  remind  me  strongly  of  a  face  I've  seen 
before.  Have  you  a  brother?" 

"  Yes ;  two  of  'em." 

"  Infantry  or  cavalry  ?  " 

"  Both  in  the  cavalry :  Ninth  South  Carolina.  One's  a  lieu- 
tenant." 

"  Think  I've  seen  him,"  said  I. 

"  You  belong  to  the  First,  don't  you  ?  "  said  he. 

"Yes." 

"  That's  on  the  right  of  the  brigade,  I  think.  I  don't  know 
why  you  are  not  with  your  command." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Chappell,"  said  I,  "  I  was  out  forag- 
ing, and  I'm  going  to  divide  with  you." 

Chappell's  haversack  was  empty.  I  put  into  it  the  remain- 
der of  the  supplies  which  Mr.  Darby  had  intended  for  the 
Confederacy;  Chappell  made  no  objection;  I  don't  suppose 
that  in  Lee's  army  there  was  a  man  high  and  mighty  enough 
to  have  protested  against  such  an  act  in  his  favour.  Chappell 
began  to  eat. 

"  I  think  you'd  better  get  back  to  your  place,  Berwick." 

"No,"  said  I;  "I  am  going  to  stay  with  you  until  the 
brigade  reaches  you,  and  then  both  of  us  will  be  all  right." 

"Our  fellows  did  mighty  well  to-day,"  said  Chappell. 
"Them  Yanks  drove  our  cavalry  at  their  sweet  will,  but 
when  the  sharp-shooters  struck  'em,  they  had  to  git  up  and 
dust." 


286        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

He  did  not  know,  and  I  have  never  yet  found  one  of  that  bat- 
talion who  would  admit,  that  the  ease  with  which  McGowan's 
sharp-shooters  drove  Chapman's  cavalry  on  that  day  was  all 
owing  to  peculiar  circumstances,  which  I  have  hinted  at 
already.  Chapman  was  withdrawing,  after  having  defeated 
Gary,  and  the  sudden  charge  of  the  sharp-shooters  upon  his 
disorganized  troops  caused  somewhat  of  a  panic.  Indeed,  one 
or  two  of  Warren's  infantry  regiments,  which  had  advanced 
from  Long  Bridge,  were  caught  at  sunset  in  the  mixture,  and 
acted  like  sheep.  But  neither  have  I  been  able  to  convince  a 
man  of  Chapman's  brigade  that  it  had  skedaddled  manfully 
before  a  thin  line  of  skirmishers.  Chapman's  men  swore,  and 
swear  yet,  that  a  solid  line  of  battle  came  against  them  at 
Riddell's  Shop.  The  truth  is,  that  the  sharp-shooters  lacked 
very  little  of  capturing  Fitzhugh's  battery  —  it  had  to  be  with- 
drawn in  great  haste. 

I  staid  with  Chappell  until  the  brigade  came  up,  and  turned 
him  over  to  the  infirmary  men.  At  dark  I  went  to  the  rear  of 
the  brigade,  and  tramped  south  for  several  miles.  Then  I 
turned  east,  and  before  midnight  reached  our  cavalry. 


XXVI 

KING  WILLIAM 

*'  "Why  should  a  man,  whose  blood  is  warm  within, 
Sit  like  his  grandsire  cut  in  alabaster  ?  "  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

A  LITTLE  after  midnight  of  the  13th,  or  morning  of  the  14th, 
I  reached  General  Meade's  headquarters  near  Cedar  Grove, 
some  two  miles  east  of  Long  Bridge,  and  on  the  direct  road 
from  Long  Bridge  to  White  House.  The  army  was  in  move- 
ment; Hancock's  corps  was  already  at  the  James,  and  the 
other  corps  were  rapidly  following  Hancock,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Smith's,  which  had  marched  to  White  House  and  re- 
turned to  the  James  Kiver  by  water.  I  reported  to  General 
Meade. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  Berwick  ?  " 

"  I  obeyed  your  orders,  sir,  in  regard  to  Colonel  Chapman." 

"  Did  you  see  any  infantry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Hill's  corps,  or  part  of  it  at  least." 

"Where?" 

"  Near  Riddell's  Shop,  sir." 

"  Then  I  must  hold  Wilson  where  he  is." 

He  called  a  courier  and  sent  him  off  with  a  written  order. 
Then  he  said,  "  You  know  anything  of  the  James  Kiver  ?  " 

"  No,  General,"  I  replied. 

"  Nor  south  of  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  I  think  I'll  let  you  stay  on  this  side  awhile,  Berwick, 
and  give  you  some  work  you  won't  object  to  doing,  if  Doctor 
Khayme  is  correct.  Report  to  me  again  at  sunrise." 

I  was  punctual.  General  Meade  directed  an  orderly  to  go 

287 


288        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

to  General  Williams  and  fetch  the  reports  of  General  Aber- 
crombie. 

"  That  man  Scranton  is  a  scoundrel,  Berwick." 

"  I  am  afraid  so,  sir." 

"  You  must  catch  him." 

The  orderly  returned  with  a  small  package.  General  Meade 
selected  a  paper  and  handed  it  to  me.  It  was  a  report  of 
General  Abercrombie,  commanding  at  White  House,  regarding 
an  effort  to  break  up  a  gang  of  guerillas  in  King  William 
County.1 

While  I  was  reading  this  report  General  Meade  gave  his 
attention  to  other  things,  busily  sending  despatches,  examining 
maps,  and  making  replies  to  secretaries  and  aides.  I  waited 
until  he  turned  again  toward  me. 

"You  have  read  it?" 

"Yes,  sir;  I  see  that  General  Abercrombie  wants  to  try 
the  guerillas  again,  but  doesn't  know  whether  there  is  time." 

"  Yes ;  he  thinks  White  House  is  to  be  abandoned  suddenly. 
The  depot  will  be  broken  up,  but  we  shall  keep  a  small  force 
there  for  some  time  yet.  Now  read  this  report  from  Captain 
Capron." 

He  turned  away  again,  and  worked  busily  while  I  read  an 
account  of  a  scout  near  King  William  Court-House  by  some 


1 "  HEADQUARTERS  U.  S.  FORCES, 
"  WHITE  HOUSE,  VA.,  June  12,  1864. 

"  BRIG.-GEN.  JOHN  A.  RAWLINS,  Chief  of  Staff,  Armies  of  the  United  States. 
"  SIR:  Having  received  intelligence  of  the  presence  of  a  considerable  force 
of  guerillas,  say  60  or  upwards,  at  or  near  King  William  Court-House,  I 
despatched  about  100  of  the  First  Rhode  Island  Cavalry,  under  Captain  Capron, 
to  ascertain  the  facts  in  relation  thereto.  He  returned  last  night,  and  makes 
the  accompanying  report.  Before  sending  out  again,  I  have  thought  it  proper 
to  ascertain  first,  whether  there  would  be  sufficient  time  to  do  so ;  the  distance 
from  here  is  between  eight  and  nine  miles. 

"  Very  respectfully  yours, 

"  J.  J.  ABERCROMBIE, 
"  Brigadier-General,  Commanding." 
—From  War  Records.    [Eo.] 


KING  WILLIAM  289 

of  the  First  Rhode  Island  cavalry.  Skirmishing  had  taken 
place  with  guerillas,  and  men  had  been  wounded  on  each 
side.  I  remember  that  Captain  Capron  reported  that  the 
bushwhackers  had  killed  some  of  our  men  after  capturing 
them,  and  that  there  were  others  who  were  in  danger  of  being 
murdered.1 

"Now,  Berwick,"  said  the  general,  at  last,  "I  want  that 
thing  torn  out  by  the  roots.  I  shall  send  another  party 
into  King  William,  and  if  that  doesn't  answer,  I'll  keep  on 
at  it." 

He  turned  to  an  orderly  and  said,  "  Take  these  papers  back 
to  General  Williams,  and  ask  him  to  write  an  order  to  General 
Abercrombie  to  try  the  thing  again."  And  to  me  he  said:  "  You 
will  deliver  the  order,  and  you  will  go  with  the  expedition,  and 
report  to  me  when  you  come  back  whether  proper  effort  has 
been  made.  Upon  my  soul,  I  think  some  of  our  officers  are 
more  afraid  of  these  ruffians  than  they  are  of  Lee's  veterans." 

"  How  long  shall  I  be  away,  General  ?  " 

"  Take  a  week  or  ten  days  if  need  be.  When  you  get  through 
this  job,  report  to  me  south  of  the  James." 

1 "  WHITE  HOUSB  LANDING,  VA. 

"  June  11, 1864. 

"CAPT.  R.  L.  ORR,  Acting  Assistant  Adjutant-General. 
"  SIR  :  I  have  the  honor  to  report  a  scout  made  in  the  vicinity  of  King 
William  Court-House,  Va.  I  marched  to  Lanesville,  and  there  learned  from 
the  negroes  that  a  force  of  40  to  70  rebel  cavalry  were  lurking  about  the 
country  capturing  what  men  were  straggling  about  that  vicinity.  Three 
miles  from  Lanesville  my  advance  was  fired  on  by  dismounted  men  from  the 
field.  The  advance  immediately  charged  ;  they  fled  to  the  wood  ;  I  was 
unable  to  find  them.  I  had  one  man  badly  wounded,  and  saw  11  mounted 
some  distance  through  a  wood  in  a  clearing.  I  also  learned  that  7  Federal 
soldiers  were  prisoners  near  King  William  Court-House, 2  having  been  killed. 
The  rest  will  probably  share  the  same  fate  if  their  captors  cannot  get  them 
to  Richmond. 

"  I  am,  sir,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

" W.  C.  CAPRON, 
"  Captain,  First  Rhode  Island  Cavalry,  Commanding." 

—  From  War  Records.    [Eo.J 
V 


290       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

I  was  placing  the  order  in  my  pocket,  when  he  said,  "  Read 
it  to  me,  Berwick." 
I  read  aloud  as  follows :  — 

"  HEADQCABTBBS  ARMY  OF  THE  POTOMAC. 

"  June  14,  1864. 
"  COMMANDING  OFFICER,  White  House,  Va. 

"  SIR  :  I  am  directed  by  the  Major-General  commanding  to  acknowledge 
the  receipt  of  your  letter  of  the  12th  instant,  enclosing  the  report  of  Captain 
Capron,  First  Rhode  Island  Cavalry,  of  a  scout  made  by  him  in  the  vicinity 
of  King  William  Court-House.  The  commanding  general  directs  that  you 
send  another  party  against  the  bands  of  guerillas  supposed  to  be  in  the 
vicinity  of  King  William  Court-House. 

"  I  am,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

"S.  WILLIAMS,  Assistant  Adjutant-General." 

"  Just  like  Seth,"  l  said  General  Meade,  when  I  had  finished 
reading ;  "  Berwick,  tell  General  Abercrombie  for  me  that  that 
order  expresses  very  mildly  what  I  want  done.  I  want  the 
thing  stamped  out.  Understand?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  you  may  go." 

White  House  was  hardly  ten  miles  from  headquarters,  and 
I  had  a  good  road,  although  much  blocked  with  wagon-trains 
and  artillery  as  far  as  Emmaus  Church.  The  air  was  fine,  and 
I  gave  my  horse  the  spur.  The  work  suited  me.  If  possible, 
I  would  get  Scranton  and  his  men.  Had  he  not  shown  himself 
relentless,  I  should  have  been  far  from  doing  him  harm,  and 
even  now  I  would  not  seek  his  life ;  but  my  own  safety,  and 
much  more,  Lydia's,  seemed  to  require  his  capture.  The  course 
was  northeast,  and  easy  to  know.  At  nine  o'clock  the  Pamun- 
key  was  in  sight,  and  twenty  minutes  later  I  drew  rein  at  Gen- 
eral Abercrombie's  headquarters. 

The  general  was  a  little  blank  when  he  had  read  the  despatch. 

"  Are  you  to  wait  for  a  reply  ?  " 

1  General  Seth  Williams,  Assistant  Adjutant-General,  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac. [En.] 


KING  WILLIAM  291 

"No,  sir;  I  am  ordered  to  accompany  the  scouting  party." 

"  In  what  capacity  ?  "  he  asked,  frowning. 

"  Somewhat  as  guide,  I  think,  sir,"  I  replied,  wishing  to 
soften  him. 

"  Do  you  know  the  country  ?  Do  you  know  what  this  order 
is?" 

"  I  know,  sir,  that  General  Meade  ordered  me  to  accompany 
an  expedition  into  King  William ;  I  came  through  it  about  two 
weeks  ago,  bringing  a  despatch  from  General  Grant  to  General 
Smith.  I  can't  say  that  I  know  the  country  well,  sir,  but  I 
know  one  or  two  persons  over  there  on  whom  we  can  depend, 
and  I  know  that  there  are  parties  of  guerillas,  or  worse,  over 
there." 

The  general  looked  somewhat  mollified. 

"  Worse  than  guerillas,  you  say  ?  " 

"Eenegades  from  our  army,  sir;  General  Meade  is  particu- 
larly interested  in  their  capture.  Their  leader  is  not  unknown 
to  him,  and  it  was  because  I  know  him  that  the  general  chose 
me  to  come  to  you,  sir." 

"  Very  well,"  said  he,  heartily  ;  "  I'm  glad  to  have  you.  You 
wear  no  shoulder-straps,  but  I  guess  you  are  a  commissioned 
officer  ?  " 

"  A  lieutenant.  Lieutenant  Berwick,  sir,  in  General  Meade's 
official  family.  The  general  ordered  me  to  tell  you  from  him, 
sir,  that  the  letter  written  by  General  Williams  does  not,  in  its 
perfunctory  terms,  convey  his  thought  as  strongly  as  he  could 
wish.  He  desires  that  the  nest  of  guerillas  and  renegades  over 
yonder  should  be  stamped  out,  sir;  those  were  his  words; 
'  stamped  out.' " 

"  We'll  do  what  we  can,  Lieutenant,  and  I'm  glad  to  have 
your  help,  but  the  trouble  is  that  when  we  go  there  they  run 
away,  and  return  again  as  soon  as  we  are  out  of  sight." 

"  We  must  practise  guile,  sir,  if  we  would  catch  them." 

"If  you  have  any  plan,  let  me  hear  it." 

"  I  think,  sir,  that  to  ride  straight  through  the  country  along 


292       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  roads  simply  gives  them  warning.  We  should  secretly  find 
their  rendezvous,  and  then  surround  it." 

"  Yes,  but  to  find  it !  I  have  no  men  whom  I  could  thor- 
oughly hope  will  succeed  in  that.  Now,  if  you  could  do  it  for 
me,  I  would  answer  for  the  rest,"  said  he,  banteringly. 

"  General,  I  accept  at  once,"  said  I. 

He  turned  me  over  to  Captain  Orr,  his  assistant  adjutant- 
general,  telling  the  captain  to  arrange  with  me  for  a  surprise 
of  the  guerillas. 

The  adjutant  entered  heartily  into  the  scheme. 

"  What  force  do  you  suggest  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  very  small  force  of  the  very  best  quality,  Captain." 

He  smiled.  "  Hard  to  get,"  said  he ;  "  you  see  this  camp  ? 
We  have  here  about  five  thousand  men ;  not  one  per  cent  of 
them  have  ever  seen  active  service.  They  are  reserves,  most 
of  them  —  Ohio  National  Guards,  Veteran  Reserves,  and  the 
like.  We  have  only  about  two  hundred  cavalry — one  hundred 
and  ninety-eight  to  be  exact." 

"  They  have  seen  service  ?  " 

"Yes.  We  are  only  a  forwarding  station.  Troops  come 
through  here  and  rest,  and  go  on  to  the  front.  We  serve  here 
just  as  we  did  at  Port  Royal.  White  House  is  to  be  broken 
up  at  once,  at  least  General  Abercrombie's  share  in  it.  He  is 
already  ordered  to  report  to  the  Department  at  Washington, 
and  waits  only  for  the  arrival  of  General  Getty,  his  successor. 
You  know  the  base  of  the  army  is  already  changed  to  City 
Point." 

"  Has  the  medical  department  been  removed,  Captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  most  of  it.  There  are  a  few  sick  here  yet,  and  a  few 
wounded,  but  almost  everything  went  off  yesterday  to  Wash- 
ington and  City  Point,  and  medical  headquarters  are  no  longer 
here." 

I  could  not  conceal  my  disappointment ;  I  had  hoped  to  find 
Lydia. 

"  But  we'll  do  the  best  we  can  for  you,"  he  said,  no  doubt 


KING  WILLIAM  293 

observing  my  chagrin,  and  attributing  it  to  a  wrong  cause. 
"The  First  Rhode  Island  can  give  us  good  men." 

"  The  First  Rhode  Island  ?  " 

"Yes;  the  cavalry  I  spoke  about  —  Major  Farrington." 

By  four  o'clock  the  plan  of  the  campaign  had  been  made  and 
everything  had  been  arranged.  Two  companies  of  cavalry 
were  to  march  north  next  morning  at  daylight;  they  would 
establish  a  strong  post  at  Lanesville,  another  at  King  William 
Court-House,  and  a  third  at  Brandywine,  and  form  a  cordon 
through  which  the  guerillas  would  have  difficulty  in  breaking. 
Ten  picked  men  from  the  First  Rhode  Island,  commanded  by 
Sergeant  Throop,  were  to  cross  the  river  and  proceed  with 
great  secrecy,  on  bypaths,  to  the  cross-roads  where  Scranton's 
man,  Barton,  had  met  his  death  on  the  29th  of  May,  and  there 
wait  for  my  orders.  Meanwhile  I  was  to  go  up  the  west  side 
of  the  Pamunkey,  cross  it  above  the  mouth  of  Jack's  Creek, 
and  make  my  way  to  Showalter's. 

A  man  rode  with  me  some  six  or  eight  miles  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  my  horse  back  to  Sergeant  Throop.  I  did  not  know 
how  I  was  to  cross  the  river,  but  was  sure  that  I  should  cross. 
It  was  night  when  I  reached  its  bank,  and  I  decided  to  lose  no 
time  in  hunting  for  a  boat.  I  took  off  my  clothing,  rolled  it 
into  a  compact  bundle,  tied  it  on  a  raft  improvised  of  fence 
rails,  and  swam  across,  pushing  my  raft  before  me.  I  was 
without  even  the  burden  of  haversack  or  canteen,  and  was  in 
Confederate  clothing,  for  I  knew  that  the  renegades  had  been 
pretending  at  times  to  belong  to  the  Southern  army. 

At  ten  o'clock  I  stood  before  the  house  of  Showalter  and 
wondered.  The  house  was  lighted.  The  west  front  room  on 
the  lower  floor  was  open,  —  doors  and  windows, — for  the  night 
was  very  warm,  and  the  captain  had  company  within.  I  did 
not  whistle.  Sounds  came  from  the  house  —  sounds  of  merri- 
ment, somewhat  too  boisterous,  I  thought,  to  please  the  host 
What  could  it  all  mean?  Had  the  passing  of  the  armies  to 
the  south  left  the  country  so  free  of  fear  that  customs  had 


294       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

changed  in  a  week  ?  I  did  not  believe  it.  Instead  of  whis- 
tling, I  hid.  Great  fear  had  fallen  on  me.  The  revelry  in  the 
house  meant  ill  to  Showalter.  I  heard  oaths. 

The  truth,  or  something  near  it,  was  seen  almost  instantly. 
The  house  was  held  by  a  party  of  men  —  but  of  which  side 
were  they?  I  made  a  detour  through  the  woods,  and  ap- 
proached the  house  from  the  rear ;  there  everything  was  silent 
and  dark.  I  came  back  by  the  west  end  of  the  building;  here 
one  of  the  windows  was  not  entirely  open ;  the  wind  had  risen, 
and  slammed  an  ill-fitting  shutter  which  allowed  a  little  light 
to  pass.  The  window  was  too  high  for  me  to  see  into  the 
room  even  on  tiptoe,  but  the  talk  inside  was  loudj  I  could 
hear  almost  every  word.  » 

« I  hit  the  high." 

"  I'm  dam'd  if  you  did.     Pard  had  the  king." 

«  Show  it." 

A  short  pause,  and  a  new  voice  spoke. 

"Hand  me  that  bottle." 

"You're  welcome.     Nothin'  in  it." 

Now  there  were  curses  loud  and  deep. 

"  Say,  there,  none  o'  your  tricks,  now ;  don't  you  deal  before 
I  cut." 

All  of  this  speech,  and  more  besides,  was  interlarded  with 
oaths  and  obscenity.  I  tried  in  vain  to  raise  myself  to  the 
height  of  the  window.  There  was  no  tree  or  fence  near 
enough  to  serve  me.  I  thought  of  getting  a  fence-rail  and 
leaning  it  against  the  house  for  a  sort  of  ladder,  but  feared  the 
noise  I  might  make  if  perched  in  such  a  cramped  position.  It 
was  not  to  be  believed  that  these  men  had  no  scouts  and  senti- 
nels. At  any  moment  I  might  be  detected.  Where  was  York  ? 
What  had  become  of  Showalter  ?  I  stole  to  the  back  of  the 
house  again,  but  was  afraid  to  venture  entirely  around  it ;  I 
might  stumble  on  a  sentinel.  These  were  Scranton's  men,  but 
I  had  not  heard  their  leader's  voice.  Probably  he  was  yet 
confined  to  his  room.  At  the  back  steps  I  listened  attentively ; 


KING  WILLIAM  295 

there  was  no  sound  except  a  low  murmur  coming  from  the 
front  room.  The  notion  came  to  me  that  I  might  find  Scranton 
and  take  him,  but  it  was  at  once  abandoned.  He  was  armed, 
and  I  was  not.  One  cry  from  him  would  fetch  his  gang  upon 
me.  Something  better  must  be  thought  of.  Sergeant  Throop 
would  not  be  at  the  cross-roads  before  daylight ;  it  would  be 
broad  day  before  his  squad  could  reach  Showalter,  even  if 
some  one  could  inform  and  guide  them,  and  by  that  time  there 
was  no  telling  where  these  scoundrels  would  be.  What  to  do 
puzzled  me  beyond  measure. 

But  now  I  heard  footsteps  —  some  one  was  descending  the 
stairs  from  the  second  floor.  I  crept  back  to  the  side  window 
of  the  front  room. 

The  men  were  talking  more  loudly  than  before,  two.  or  three 
of  them  at  once  —  quarrelling.  Suddenly  they  ceased,  and 
different  sounds  came  to  my  ears. 

"Out  with  these  lights!  "Tis  odds  beyond  arithmetic' 
they've  been  seen  already!" 

I  heard^a  scramble. 

Again  the  voice :  "  Who  relieves  the  guard  ?  " 

«I,  sir." 

"  Then  '  bravely  broach  your  boiling  bloody  breast '  to  your 
imperious  duty  !  Hie  thee,  man !  '  I  would  have  it  suddenly 
performed ! '  And  you  others,  get  to  your  kennels.  '  Pray 
God,  I  prove  a  needless  coward,  but  I  fear  this  wood  lacks  not 
for  worlds  of  company.'  Get  you  gone,  I  say !  " 

Where  would  the  relieving  guard  go  ?  Would  he  leave  the 
front  or  the  rear  of  the  house  ?  I  hastily  retired  toward  the 
west,  until  I  could  see  both  yards  at  once.  I  heard  feet  coming 
down  the  steps  into  the  back  yard,  and  then  saw  the  glitter  of 
a  gun-barrel  as  a  man  walked  across  the  yard  and  down  the 
hill  in  the  moonlight. 

I  followed  him.  A  hundred  yards  at  the  rear  of  the  old 
dwelling  was  a  square  log  hut;  the  guard  went  toward  it. 
Here  the  space  was  open,  and  I  paused  in  the  shadow,  fearing 


296       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

to  go  farther.  The  guard  went  on,  and  disappeared  behind 
the  log  hut.  Almost  at  once  he  began  to  return  —  no,  not 
he,  the  man  whom  he  had  relieved.  I  stood  stock  still,  and 
waited  until  he  had  gone  into  the  house.  What  was  in  that 
hut?  From  my  place  I  could  see  no  door  —  the  door  must 
be  on  the  other  side.  The  relief  had  been  made  so  quickly 
that  I  knew  the  guard  was  stationed  at  the  door  of  the  hut. 
But  what  was  he  guarding  ?  I  made  a  long  circuit,  and  ap- 
proached the  hut  from  the  east.  The  guard  was  sitting  on 
the  doorsteps. 

My  position  now  was  some  fifty  yards  to  the  right  of  the 
guard.  He  was  sitting  on  the  doorsteps,  bent  over,  with  his 
gun  between  his  legs ;  I  could  see  that  the  gun  had  no  bayonet, 
though  it  was  a  long  gun  —  a  rifle. 

He  would  soon  go  to  sleep  if  he  retained  his  posture,  but  I 
could  not  wait  for  him  to  sleep ;  I  must  take  that  man  and 
take  him  at  once.  I  crawled  toward  him,  keeping  the  north- 
east corner  of  the  hut  between  us.  I  reached  the  building, 
and  took  off  my  hat.  Then  I  cautiously  peered  around  the 
corner,  keeping  my  head  low  to  the  ground.  The  man  yet  sat 
still,  his  head  bent  down.  I  drew  back  and  rose. 

The  next  moment  I  was  standing  before  him,  with  my  left 
hand  grasping  his  gun-barrel,  and  in  my  right  hand  my  clasp- 
knife  lifted  as  if  to  strike. 

"  Make  the  slightest  sound  and  you  are  gone ! " 

He  raised  his  hands.  The  rifle  was  now  in  mine.  I  stepped 
back  two  long  paces,  levelled,  and  said,  "  Take  off  your  belt." 
He  obeyed. 

"  Draw  out  your  bayonet."     He  obeyed. 

"Now  go  to  that  door  and  prize  out  the  staple."  He  did  as 
I  ordered.  Voices  were  heard  in  the  hut. 

"  Now  put  that  bayonet  carefully  on  the  ground."  He  bent 
over  and  rose  again. 

"  Open  the  door  and  walk  in.     Make  no  noise." 

Behind  him  I  approached  the  open  door. 


KING  WILLIAM  297 

"  7s  ShowdUer  well  f  " 

"  God  be  thanked,  yes ! " 

"  Speak  low,  sir ;  is  York  here,  too  ?  n 

"  Yes,  suh ;  that's  Mahs  Jones  ?  " 

"  York,  don't  you  call  me  Mahs  Jones ;  go  out  and  pick  up 
this  man's  belt  and  tie  him  with  it.  Mr.  Showalter,  please  keep 
as  quiet  as  possible.  We  must  stay  here  a  while." 

When  York  had  securely  bound  the  man,  I  handed  Showalter 
the  rifle,  and  ordered  York  to  come  outside  with  me. 

"  York,  where  are  your  horses  ?  " 

"  Way  out  in  the  pastuhe,  suh." 

"  Can  you  get  one  in  half  an  hour  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  suh.  The  pastuhe  is  ve'y  lahge.  I  might 
have  trouble  in  finding  them,  suh." 

"  Where  are  the  horses  that  belong  to  these  men  ?  " 

"  They  have  them  gyuahded,  suh,  down  in  the  woods." 

"  How  many  men  are  guarding  them  ?  " 

"  Only  one,  suh,  besides  that  faheigneh." 

"  How  far  off  are  they  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  the  spot  exactly,  suh ;  it's  somewheah  neah 
theah  camp  on  the  otheh  side  of  the  big  road." 

"  York,  can  you  run  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  see  me  run,  suh,  when  the  woods  weh  afiah  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  you  must  run  four  miles." 

"  I  can  do  it,  suh." 

"  Are  you  hungry  ?  " 

"No,  suh." 

"  Go  as  hard  as  you  can  run  to  the  cross-roads  where  we  saw 
the  man  hanging." 

"  Yes,  suh ! " 

"There  you  will  find  ten  men  —  cavalry.  If  you  do  not  find 
them,  wait  till  they  come  ;  they  are  to  get  there  at  daybreak." 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"Tell  Sergeant  Throop  to  surround  the  big  house.  Guide 
him  here.  Ride  my  horse  back.  Two  or  three  men  at  the 


298       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTEKSIGN 

front  of  the  house ;  two  or  three  at  the  back  ;  the  rest  out  in 
the  woods  all  around  —  a  hundred  yards  apart ;  understand  ?  " 

"Yes,  suh!" 

"  How  many  men  are  in  the  gang  ?  " 

"Eight,  suh,  counting  this  one." 

"  They  have  been  reenf orced  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  they  picked  up  fouh  men." 

"  Do  you  count  Scherzer,  the  foreigner,  as  one  ?  n 

"  No,  suh ;  he  makes  nine,  if  you  count  him." 

"  There  will  be  one  less  when  you  get  back." 

"  You  going  to  hang  this  one,  suh  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  mean  I'm  going  to  catch  another.  Now,  York,  go 
for  your  life." 


XXVII 

THE  SIEGE  OF   SHOWALTEB 

"  Who  can  be  wise,  amazed,  temperate  and  furious, 
Loyal  and  neutral,  in  a  moment  ?  "  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

THE  night  was  passing.  I  had  little  doubt,  however,  that 
York  would  reach  the  cross-roads  before  Throop  got  there,  and 
be  compelled  to  wait. 

The  prisoner  begged  to  be  allowed  to  speak,  and  I  ordered 
him  to  say  in  a  whisper  what  he  wanted  to  tell. 

"Captain,"  —  he  called  me  captain,  —  "I  don't  belong  to 
these  people ;  they  pressed  me  into  their  gang." 

"  How  can  you  prove  it  ?  " 

"I'm  a  Union  soldier,  sir;  these  men  are  robbers." 

"  I  know  what  these  men  are,  but  how  am  I  to  know  you 
are  a  Federal  soldier  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  my  gun  ought  to  bear  me  out." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"I  belong  to  the  infantry;  my  gun  is  a  Springfield  rifle, 
with  a  bayonet." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  say  no  more,  now ;  if  you  are  telling  the 
truth  we  shall  not  be  hard  on  you." 

"  You  are  a  Confederate  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Wait  and  see,"  said  I. 

"  I'd  like  to  say  one  word  more,  sir." 

"  Say  it." 

"  There  is  another  man  in  the  house  who  is  just  like  I  am, 
sir,  —  not  a  thief,  but  a  soldier." 

"  Then  I  hope  he  will  not  fight  for  them." 

200 


300        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  He  may  be  compelled  to,  sir." 

Showalter  was  very  quiet  —  saying  nothing.  I  examined 
the  inside  of  the  hut ;  there  was  no  window  —  no  chimney  — 
no  crack  between  the  logs. 

"  How  often  is  the  guard  relieved  ?  "  I  asked  the  prisoner. 

"  Every  two  hours,  sir." 

"  Do  you  have  a  corporal  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  What  was  your  gang  going  to  do  with  my  friend  here  ?  " 

"  Captain  Owen  was  demanding  ransom,  sir." 

So  Scranton  was  now  Owen. 

"  Where  are  your  horses  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  About  a  mile  off,  sir,  in  the  woods." 

"  Under  guard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  many  men  ?  " 

"  Two  men,  sir ;  only  one  is  a  member  of  the  gang." 

"Who  is  the  other?" 

"  He's  a  Frenchman,  I  think,  sir." 

"  And  he  is  not  a  member  of  the  gang  ?  " 

"  He  may  be,  sir,  but  I  don't  think  so.  He  is  not  made  to 
do  duty  like  the  rest." 

« Is  he  armed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  with  pistols." 

I  had  taken  the  rifle  from  Showalter.  Not  able  to  see  the 
dwelling  from  the  inside  of  the  hut,  I  went  out  and  walked  up 
and  down  before  the  door,  watching  and  listening  intently. 
The  moon  had  gone  down ;  it  would  soon  be  day. 

A  shuffling  of  feet  was  heard,  and  I  looked  round  the 
corner.  A  man  was  coming.  He  turned  the  corner  of  the  hut, 
found  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle  in  his  face,  and  collapsed.  He  was 
almost  scared  to  death.  I  marched  him  into  the  hut.  Show- 
alter  took  his  carbine  and  accoutrements,  and  I  securely  bound 
his  hands  behind  his  back. 

We  could  expect  no  other  godsend  like  this.    We  marched 


THE  SIEGE  OF   SHOWALTER  301 

our  captives  into  the  wood  in  front,  and  tied  them  to  trees, 
beyond  any  view  from  the  dwelling.  Showalter  heartily  sup- 
ported me. 

"  Berwick,"  said  he,  "  we  must  not  let  those  scoundrels  get 
away  from  my  house.  I'll  burn  it  first." 

I  gave  him  choice  of  positions,  and  he  took  the  front.  I 
went  back  and  took  post  behind  a  tree  in  the  rear.  The  house 
with  its  garrison  of  five  was  now  besieged  by  two  men.  I 
hoped  that  the  garrison  would  sleep  late. 

A  man  appeared  at  the  back  door.  He  was  rubbing  his 
eyes.  He  came  down  the  steps.  I  could  have  shot  him  dead. 
What  was  he  going  to  do  ?  It  was  not  half  time  yet  for  the 
relief.  I  had  it;  the  garrison  was  alarmed  because  the  last 
guard  had  not  returned.  This  man  had  been  sent  out  to  see 
what  was  the  matter.  I  let  him  approach  the  hut.  I  was 
fighting  myself  hard;  I  could  easily  kill  him;  I  could  less 
easily  capture  him.  What  should  I  do  ?  Yet,  either  act  would 
at  once  put  the  renegades  thoroughly  on  their  guard.  They 
would  rush  from  the  house,  and  make  for  their  horses.  Should 
I  shoot  that  man  ?  Should  I  take  him  ?  Yes,  I  would  take 
him,  but  at  the  last  moment.  I  must  make  no  noise  now.  I 
must  let  him  get  to  the  hut  and  examine  it ;  before  he  raised  an 
outcry  I  must  take  him.  Every  moment  of  delay  was  precious. 

The  man  came  on  and  turned  the  corner  of  the  hut.  His 
back  was  toward  me.  I  stole  through  the  woods,  and  as  he 
entered  the  hut  I  was  at  the  door  and  had  him. 

Now  it  was  light,  and  I  feared  to  retreat  from  the  hut  with 
my  prisoner.  This  man's  failure  to  return  would  strike  the 
garrison  with  astonishment  and  terror.  They  would  conjec- 
ture many  things  —  amongst  them  the  truth.  If  they  could 
know  the  truth,  would  they  not  sally  out  and  capture  me  in  the 
hut  ?  My  prisoner  was  an  encumbrance.  I  could  not  tie  him. 
I  uncapped  his  gun,  and  threw  his  cartridge-box  into  a  corner ; 
I  must  stand  guard  over  him  until  Throop  should  come. 
There  was  no  view  of  the  dwelling.  At  any  moment  men 


802        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

might  come  in  on  me.  I  wanted  to  work  a  peephole  between 
two  logs,  but  in  doing  so  should  have  been  at  the  mercy  of  my 
captive.  I  ordered  him  to  remain  in  the  hut ;  I  took  my  stand 
outside,  the  hut  between  me  and  the  dwelling ;  but  he  was  a 
bold  villain,  —  with  a  spring  he  had  cleared  the  door  and  was 
around  the  corner.  I  sprang  to  the  corner,  and  fired  at  him 
running.  He  fell,  but  picked  himself  up  again,  and  staggered 
into  the  house.  I  ran  back  into  the  hut  and  got  his  gun  and 
cartridges. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  remain  in  the  hut.  I  backed  away, 
keeping  it  between  me  and  the  dwelling,  and  it  was  well  for 
me  that  the  ground  sloped  somewhat  downward  until  the  for- 
est was  reached ;  only  one  bullet  came  at  me. 

It  was  between  daybreak  and  sunrise.  The  house  was  astir. 
I  could  hear  the  upper  windows  thrown  open  in  front;  then  I 
could  see  them  thrown  open  in  the  rear.  Five  men  were  in 
that  house,  but  one  of  them  was  useless  —  worse  than  useless 
—  to  the  defenders.  They  counted  but  four.  I  had  an  extra 
gun  and  was  strongly  tempted  to  go  to  Showalter's  post  and 
release  our  first  prisoner.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  done  so, 
but  I  feared  treachery.  I  believed  that  success  was  sure,  and 
would  not  imperil  it.  I  loaded. 

Now  I  must  watch  in  every  direction.  Would  not  the 
sound  of  the  firing  cause  Scherzer  and  his  man  to  come  to  the 
house  ?  I  hoped  not ;  they  were  a  mile  away.  Besides,  if 
they  should  hear  the  shots,  their  fears  might  keep  them  where 
they  were.  Then,  too,  they  must  guard  their  horses. 

No  doubt  the  wounded  man  had  told  his  comrades  that  there 
was  but  one  enemy  in  their  rear.  Would  they  believe  it  ? 
He  had  seen  but  one,  yet  they  knew  that  Sho waiter  and  York 
were  free,  and  that  two  of  their  own  comrades  were  missing. 
They  would  infer  that  both  York  and  Showalter  had  armed 
themselves  with  the  captured  rifles.  I  tried  to  put  myself  in 
Scranton's  place  that  I  might  reason  what  he  ought  to  do.  Of 
course  if  he  knew  the  conditions  fully,  the  whole  party  would 


THE  SIEGE  OF  SHOWALTER  303 

sally  out  through  the  rear  door.  But  he  would  examine  the 
ground  first.  He  might  think  that  Showalter  and  York  had 
both  gone  off  in  haste  for  help.  The  gang  had  felt  the  ven- 
geance of  the  home-guards  in  Barton's  death.  They  would  fear 
to  wait.  They  were  in  a  trap  and  must  get  out,  and  get  out 
quick.  The  only  question  was  whether  they  would  try  the 
rear  or  the  front.  I  kept  my  two  guns  ready. 

Now  I  heard  a  shot  from  the  woods  in  front  of  the  house, 
aud  was  almost  overcome  through  momentary  fear  that  Show- 
alter's  prisoners  had  been  too  loosely  bound  and  would  turn 
the  tables  on  him  before  he  could  reload.  Three  or  four  shots 
were  fired  from  the  upper  windows  in  the  front.  Now  I  knew 
that  a  little  more  time  had  been  gained,  for  the  villains  would 
not  issue  out  with  unloaded  guns  in  their  hands. 

And  another  thought :  if  Scranton  knew  the  conditions, 
could  not  he  and  his  gang  escape  from  the  end  windows,  which 
neither  I  nor  Showalter  could  see  ?  I  ran  rapidly  through  the 
woods  until  I  could  see  the  windows  in  the  west  end,  and  at 
once  fired  a  shot  into  one  of  them.  Then  I  ran  to  the  east  end, 
and  fired  another  shot  from  that  direction. 

Showalter  fired  again,  and  I  was  greatly  relieved  on  his 
account.  The  sun  had  risen.  If  Throop  had  reached  the 
cross-roads  at  daybreak,  he  should  have  been  here  before  this 
time.  Something  must  have  delayed  him.  A  shot  was  fired 
from  one  of  the  rear  windows.  I  heard  the  bullet  strike  a  tree 
near  me,  not  so  near,  however,  as  to  make  me  believe  that  I 
had  been  seen.  The  garrison  was  firing  almost  at  random. 

And  now  I  began  to  think  that  Scranton  was  reluctant  to 
leave  his  wounded  man  behind.  My  thought  may  have  given 
him  too  great  credit,  yet  I  knew  that  he  was  not  entirely  bad. 
At  least,  the  matter  was  serious  enough  for  him  to  hesitate. 
The  house  lapsed  into  silence.  Some  scheme  was  working. 
Resistance  by  the  garrison  had  evidently  been  given  up,  and 
some  method  of  flight  was  being  devised.  I  went  again 
through  the  woods  until  I  could  see  the  west  end  of  the  house. 


304        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

The  windows  there  had  been  closed  since  I  last  saw  them. 
I  went  back  rapidly  until  I  found  the  east  end.  The  windows 
there  had  been  closed. 

Showalter  was  silent.  The  house  was  silent.  I  puzzled  my 
brains  to  think  what  Scranton  was  scheming.  Could  he  expect 
help  ?  Ah !  that  was  it.  He  had  simply  decided  to  remain 
where  he  was  until  help  should  come.  At  any  moment  now  I 
might  expect  Scherzer  with  help  for  Scranton,  or  York  with 
help  for  Showalter.  Which  party  would  get  here  first? 
Scranton  was  taking  his  chances,  and  I  was  taking  mine. 

Moreover,  the  besieged  might  well  count  on  holding  the 
house  until  night.  They  would  not  fear  that  their  enemies 
would  charge  upon  the  house  through  the  open  ground  immedi- 
ately around  it.  Doubtless,  they  had  barricaded  the  doors 
below,  and  were  holding  both  front  and  rear,  ready  to  shoot 
down  any  man  who  should  try  to  reach  the  dwelling.  They 
would  wait  till  night,  and  try  to  escape  under  cover  of  the 
darkness.  This  thought  made  me  comparatively  easy.  The 
only  thing  that  could  save  Scranton  would  be  help  from  the 
outside,  for  the  force  under  Throop  was  sufficient  to  blockade 
the  house  thoroughly,  and  hold  it,  at  least  until  reinforcements 
could  be  brought  from  Lanesville  and  King  William. 

And  now  I  heard  a  sound  in  my  rear,  and  turning  hastily, 
saw  a  mounted  man.  I  raised  my  rifle,  but  immediately 
dropped  it  for  I  recognized  York.  I  went  near  him. 

"  Our  cavalry  here,  York  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  they  ah  surrounding  the  house  now,  suh." 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Showalter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh ;  he  is  all  right,  suh." 

I  gave  York  the  carbine  with  its  cartridges.  Soon  four  men 
of  Throop's  squad  appeared  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  I 
posted  them  behind  trees.  Then  I  went  to  find  Throop.  He 
was  for  ending  the  thing  by  making  a  rush  for  the  doors. 
Showalter  also  was  impatient,  fearing  reenforcements  for  the 
garrison ;  but  I  believed  that  the  sacrifice  which  we  must  nee- 


THE   SIEGE  OF  SHOWALTER  305 

essarily  make  in  order  to  take  the  house  by  assault  could  be 
avoided.  Throop  then  proposed  to  go  forward  with  a  hand- 
kerchief, and  demand  the  surrender  of  the  renegades.  At  this 
proposition  Showalter  shook  his  head. 

"  You  can't  trust  them,"  said  he ;  "  they  have  violated  hos- 
pitality; they  would  shrink  from  nothing  base.  The  man 
who  went  forward  as  a  herald  would  be  shot  down,  or  else, 
if  admitted,  would  be  held  as  a  hostage." 

As  for  my  part,  I  could  neither  give  them  terms,  nor  make 
them  promises. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  make  a  close  investment  of  the 
place,  and  watch  the  windows.  Throop  and  I  went  from  post 
to  post  stimulating  the  vigilance  of  the  men;  they  were 
thoroughly  alert. 

Throop  proposed  to  fire  volleys  into  the  principal  windows 
from  all  sides  of  the  house.  I  objected.  I  did  not  wish  Scran- 
ton  to  know  that  he  was  so  thoroughly  surrounded.  I  wanted 
him  to  attempt  an  escape  and  run  into  the  net. 

Now  I  took  York,  and  two  men  of  Throop's  squad,  and 
galloped  to  the  big  road,  and  charged  at  full  speed  on  the 
camp  of  the  renegades.  Scherzer,  horses,  and  all,  had  gone. 

When  I  returned  to  Throop  and  reported  that  the  horses 
were  gone,  he  again  urged  an  assault,  and  Showalter  approved 
it.  I  still  resisted.  As  for  the  horses,  I  contended  that  the 
disappearance  of  the  men  guarding  them  did  not  necessarily 
mean  that  they  had  gone  to  seek  help ;  they  had  simply  fled 
on  hearing  the  firing  behind  them. 

Showalter  again  pressed  the  necessity  for  putting  fire  to  the 
house. 

"  Those  men  will  get  help ;  there  are  many  secessionists  in 
an  hour's  ride,"  said  he;  "we  ought  to  act  before  they  get 
here.  You  won't  give  the  order  to  assault;  then  give  the 
order  to  burn." 

"  My  friend,"  I  replied,  "  if  we  knew  positively  that  Scherzer 
can  get  help,  we  ought  to  do  as  you  say ;  but  why  should  we 


306        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

take  such  risks  before  we  know  we  are  in  danger  ?  To  burn 
your  house  through  fear  seems  cowardly." 

"  Scherzer  is  a  man  of  great  influence ! "  he  replied. 

"  What !     Scherzer ! " 

"  Yes,  Scherzer ;  that  man  is  able  to  pay  a  regiment ! " 

I  looked  at  Showalter  curiously. 

"  Mind  what  I  tell  you ! "  he  exclaimed ;  "  that  man  Scherzer 
is  not  what  he  seems  to  be !  You'd  better  act  quickly ! " 

The  old  man's  earnestness  impressed  me.  He  still  urged  the 
use  of  the  torch. 

It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  I  agreed  at  last  to  an 
assault.  Showalter  continued  to  argue  for  fire.  He  said  that 
he  and  York  could  live  just  as  well  in  the  barn.  The  loss  of 
the  house  would  make  no  difference,  and  the  old  man  proposed 
himself  as  the  torch-bearer. 

The  men  were  ordered  to  open  a  rapid  fire  on  the  front  and 
wings  of  the  house,  while  a  strong  party  was  formed  behind 
the  hut  ready  to  assault  the  rear.  It  was  now  about  two 
o'clock.  York  was  sent  to  hunt  for  an  axe,  and  speedily  cut 
a  green  log  for  a  battering  ram.  The  fire  kept  up  in  front. 
The  besieged  did  not  reply.  No  doubt  they  were  lying  down 
behind  the  barricaded  windows  seeking  shelter  from  the  bul- 
lets. Throop  himself  was  to  lead  the  assaulting  party.  At 
length,  everything  ready,  the  fire  from  the  front  ceased,  and 
four  men  began  firing  at  the  windows  in  the  rear  as  rapidly  as 
they  could.  After  three  rounds  the  rear  fire  ceased,  the  men 
ready  to  pick  off  any  one  who  should  show  his  face  at  a  win- 
dow; the  front  fire  broke  out  afresh,  and  Throop  and  three 
men  raised  the  log  from  the  ground  and  rushed  forward 
through  the  back  yard,  and  up  the  steps.  Not  a  shot  was 
fired  at  them.  One  mighty  blow  and  the  door  fell  open.  The 
fire  in  front  continued. 

In  the  hallway  there  was  a  great  uproar.  The  log  was 
dropped  on  the  floor  with  a  crash  that  shook  the  house.  All 
windows  being  closed,  there  was  no  light  except  that  which 


THE   SIEGE  OF  SHOWALTEE  307 

now  streamed  through  the  back  doorway,  —  the  door  itself 
shattered  on  the  floor,  —  and  the  sudden  transition  from  the 
glare  without,  made  the  men  stop  as  if  they  had  reached  a 
solid  obstacle.  For  a  moment  everything  before  us  was  as 
black  as  a  cavern.  But  York  rushed  forward,  and  I  followed, 
and  the  men  followed,  climbing  the  stairs  too  hastily  —  crowd- 
ing one  upon  another. 

"Two  of  you  look  into  the  lower  rooms!"  I  shouted  — 
then,  "No,  come  back;  they  are  up  here,"  for  I  now  saw 
that  the  stairway  was  barricaded.  Chairs,  beds,  bureaus, — 
everything,  piled  up  in  a  heap  at  the  top  gave  evidence  of 
the  presence  of  the  renegades  on  the  upper  floor.  Everything 
beyond  the  obstruction  was  hidden ;  it  rested  on  the  landing 
at  the  turn  of  the  stairs  and  reached  almost  to  the  ceiling; 
beyond  that  barrier  death  awaited.  And  now  heavy  footsteps 
were  heard  above  stairs,  and  the  rattling  of  window-panes. 

"Fire  through  the  floor!"  shouted  Throop;  "two  men  to 
each  room ! " 

The  lower  rooms  rang  loud  with  the  repeated  discharges  of 
carbines,  and  bullets  came  back,  fired  downward  by  the  be- 
sieged. 

I  failed  to  see  Showalter,  and  hunted  for  him,  suspecting. 
He  was  found  in  a  shed  room,  piling  old  papers  upon  a  fire  in 
a  corner.  I  jerked  him  away  and  stamped  out  the  fire. 

He  exclaimed,  "God  Almighty,  man!  What  else  can  we 
do?" 

"  I  know  a  better  way,"  said  I. 


XXVIII 

HIGH   POLITICS 

"  And  now  I  will  unclasp  a  secret  book, 
And  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

UNLESS  Owen  had  determined  to  sell  his  life  at  as  great  a 
price  as  possible,  it  was  clear  that  he  was  risking  everything 
for  delay  only.  The  torch  would  at  once  force  a  surrender, 
and  Sho waiter  was  eager  to  apply  it,  but  I  believed  that  when 
the  day  of  intense  feeling  nerving  him  to  the  sacrifice  should 
have  passed,  his  suffering  would  be  great. 

I  shouted  for  York.     He  came  running  from  a  front  room. 

"  Can  you  get  a  ladder  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh  ;  one  in  the  bahn !  " 

I  ordered  Throop  to  continue  firing  through  the  floor  into 
the  upper  room  on  the  west  and  to  cease  altogether  on  the 
east.  The  ladder  was  raised  on  the  west  side.  York,  Lough- 
lin  and  I  were  to  scale  it.  Showalter  was  to  remain  at  the 
foot  of  the  ladder  and  give  Throop  a  signal  as  soon  as  I  entered 
the  window.  I  had  the  Springfield  in  one  hand,  the  bayonet 
in  the  other.  At  the  window-sill,  I  pushed  the  bayonet  be- 
tween the  shutter  and  the  facing ;  the  shutter  sprang  open  — 
too  suddenly,  for  its  one  hinge  broke  and  the  thing  swung 
outward  and  fell,  knocking  Loughlin  down  from  the  ladder 
below  me  and  coming  in  an  ace  of  hitting  Showalter. 

York  and  I  were  in  the  room,  kneeling,  with  our  guns  lev- 
elled upon  the  open  doorway  through  which  the  enemy  must 
speedily  be  driven  toward  us.  A  man  was  lying  dead  on  the 

308 


HIGH  POLITICS  309 

learth.  A  bullet  came  through  the  floor  within  a  yard  of  my 
knee,  throwing  splinters. 

A  volley  burst  in  the  lower  room  on  the  east,  and  at  the  next 
instant  a  figure  stood  in  the  doorway.  Perhaps  he  was  blinded 
by  smoke,  and  by  the  glare  from  the  now  open  window. 

I  shouted,  "  Surrender  or  you  are  a  dead  man ! " 

But  he  did  not  surrender ;  he  turned  and  ran  into  the  next 
room,  York  and  I  following ;  then  he  saw  that  the  game  was  up, 
and  came  into  the  hall. 

"  I  surrender  to  Federal  authority,"  said  he ;  "  and  I  expect 
the  treatment  due  to  an  open  enemy.  Though  'but  a  slight 
unmeritable  man,'  I  yet  am  Captain  Owen  of  the  Confederate 
army." 

"  You  don't  remember  a  certain  Captain  Scranton  ?  " 

"Bemember  ?  'Not  more  than  an  eight-year-old  horse' ! " 

"  And  you  don't  remember  Jones  Berwick  ?  " 

"  Ah !  '  I  see  a  voice ' ;  Berwick,  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 
'What  fate  and  metaphysical  aid'  hath  sent  you  hither  to 
my  side?" 

The  hall  was  now  filled  with  the  troopers.  Scranton's  pride 
still  struggled,  though  he  made  ostentation  of  his  wound  not 
yet  healed ;  even  when  he  faced  Showalter,  his  impudence  did 
not  desert  him. 

"  My  worthy  host !  I  congratulate  myself  on  having  known 
you,  sir.  Though  'things  without  all  remedy  should  be  with- 
out regard,'  yet  I  greatly  grieve  for  having  been  the  innocent 
cause  of  this  unseemly  disturbance  in  your  hospitable  mansion, 
sir." 

Showalter  gave  him  no  reply. 

"  Sergeant,  have  you  left  any  men  below  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  the  horses  are  well  guarded." 

"  See  that  your  men  —  most  of  them — are  stationed  properly. 
We  may  have  more  work  ahead  !  Is  Loughlin  seriously  hurt  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  one  more.  What  are  we  going  to  do  with  these?" 
he  asked,  pointing  to  the  wounded. 


310        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  You  must  decide ;  we  ought  to  take  them  with  us,  if  they 
are  able  to  ride.  Have  you  looked  into  the  other  room  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I've  already  detailed  men  to  bury  him." 

"  I  think,  Throop,  that  you  ought  to  send  a  man  to  White 
House  for  an  ambulance.  We've  got  to  wait  here  awhile,  at 
any  rate,  to  put  this  house  in  order." 

He  detailed  three  men,  and  ordered  them  to  take  our  two 
uninjured  prisoners,  as  well  as  Scranton,  who  was  clearly  able 
to  ride,  to  White  House ;  then  they  were  to  bring  back  an 
ambulance.  Meanwhile  the  sentinels  below  stood  to  their 
posts,  and  all  others  were  busy,  trying  to  set  Showalter's  house 
to  rights.  The  wounded  were  removed,  the  dead  was  buried, 
and  the  furniture,  as  far  as  possible,  restored  to  its  place. 

In  the  afternoon  a  company  of  our  cavalry  rode  up  from 
Lanesville ;  they  had  taken  twelve  prisoners  —  guerillas,  the 
captain  called  them — each  of  whom  claimed  to  be  an  innocent 
non-combatant.  This  company  was  ordered  to  bivouac  at 
Showalter  for  the  night,  and  our  fears  were  gone ;  no  gang 
of  bushwhackers  or  home-guards  would  venture  now  to  dis- 
turb us. 

Just  before  nightfall,  Rice,  one  of  the  prisoners'  guard, 
walked  up  to  the  house.  "  Owen  has  escaped  !  "  he  cried,  even 
before  he  had  entered. 

He  told  us  that  in  a  hollow,  where  the  road  ran  through 
dense  woods,  his  party  had  been  charged  by  six  mounted  men. 
The  escort  had  scattered  in  flight.  The  prisoners,  one  tied  to 
each  horse,  behind  a  guard,  made  escape  difficult;  the  pur- 
suers, however,  had  followed  after  Rice  alone,  who  was  guard- 
ing Owen,  and  had  overtaken  him.  They  had  released  the 
prisoner,  had  taken  Rice's  horse,  and  had  ridden  away.  Rice 
had  received  no  ill  treatment  except  through  the  loss  of  his 
arms  and  his  horse. 

"  What  did  they  say  to  you  ?  "  asked  Throop. 

"  Only  one  man  in  the  bunch  had  anything  to  say,"  responded 
Rice ;  "  and  I  could  hardly  understand  him." 


HIGH  POLITICS  311 

"  What  was  he  like  ?  "  —  this  from  Showalter. 

"  He  was  a  Frenchified  sort  of  a  chap ;  had  a  mustache  and 
side  whiskers.  As  near  as  I  could  make  out,  he  wanted  me  to 
tell  you  that  he  expected  you  to  treat  his  men  well  because  he 
treated  me  well. 

"  Which  way  did  they  go  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Straight  south  to  the  Pamunkey,"  replied  Rice. 

I  had  expected  this  reply.  Had  it  been  different,  I  should 
have  counselled  immediate  pursuit,  but  with  the  Pamunkey 
behind  them,  Scranton  and  his  gang  could  defy  us ;  they  could 
ride  into  the  Confederate  lines  before  we  could  cross  the 
river. 

Owen's  escape  would  cause  General  Meade  to  storm.  I  was 
distressed  for  my  own  part ;  I  knew  not  with  what  great  cause, 
but  I  was  soon  to  know. 

At  night  Showalter  asked  me  into  his  own  room,  and  I  spent 
some  hours  with  him.  He  let  me  know  that  Owen's  houe  for 
ransom  had  not  been  ill-founded. 

"  I  shall  leave  this  country,"  said  he. 

"  You  surprise  me,  Captain." 

"My  willingness  to  burn  this  house  was  not  remarkable. 
The  armies  will  not  return  to  this  district.  I  have  no  hope  of 
further  usefulness  here.  I  shall  go  North." 

I  expressed  regret.  Captain  Howe's  attitude  toward  me 
was  very  friendly ;  his  tones  seemed  to  invite  sympathy.  I 
thought  that  more  was  coming. 

"  Owen's  escape,"  said  he,  "  is  not  important  in  itself,  but  it 
enables  a  greater  operator  to  play  his  part." 

"  I  have  thought  sometimes,  Captain,  that  Scranton  pos- 
sessed some  secret,  political  or  military,  which  General  Meade 
is  afraid  of." 

"  You  are  wrong  as  to  that,"  he  returned ;  "  yet  not  so  very 
far  off  the  track,  either.  Owen  is  to  be  feared  only  as 
Scherzer's  tool.  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know,"  he  continued, 
"  for  I  think  General  Meade  should  be  warned.  From  what 


312        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

you  have  told  me,  I  infer  that  he  already  has  a  strong  reason 
for  running  Owen  to  earth,  but  I  doubt  seriously  that  he  knows 
the  whole  case.  York  found  those  men  out.  He  knew  almost 
at  once,  by  some  sort  of  instinct,  I  suppose,  that  Scherzer  is  no 
servant.  Did  you  never  observe  mystery  in  the  relations  of 
Scherzer  and  Owen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have.  I  was  afraid  of  them  from  the  first." 
"As  I  say,  York  found  them  out.  That  boy  is  a  sharp 
customer.  He  came  to  me  day  by  day  telling  me  how  they 
were  acting.  Scherzer  was  playing  a  part.  Whenever  York 
saw  them  alone,  which  he  managed  to  do  in  his  own  way,  their 
positions  were  almost  reversed.  For  my  part,  I  never  did  have 
any  confidence  in  that  Frenchman,  or  Austrian,  or  whatever 
he  is.  You  can  easily  see  that  he  belongs  to  the  upper  class. 
Well,  one  day  York  saw  a  letter.  Now  those  men  never  had 
any  notion  that  York  could  read ;  he  always  spoke  dialect  in 
their  presence.  Nor,  indeed,  could  York  read  this  letter,  for 
it  was  written  in  a  language  he  could  not  understand.  But 
there  was  an  ornament,  or  vignette,  on  the  letter  head;  York 
described  this  ornament  as  'almost  a  swarm  of  bees.'  At 
another  time  the  boy  overheard  them  talking  about '  Max,'  and 
again  about  Mexico.  My  curiosity  —  no,  not  mere  curiosity, 
but  interest,  intense  interest  —  had  become  aroused,  and  I  or- 
dered him  to  watch  them  closely.  You  know  Owen  was  here 
several  weeks,  and  Scherzer  was  with  him  very  frequently. 
York  began  now  to  make  himself  very  useful  to  Owen;  he 
went  on  errands  for  him;  would  go  sometimes  to  the  camp 
down  there  in  the  woods,  for  Scherzer  would  never  sleep  here 
in  the  house.  Their  confidence  in  York  became  very  strong, 
and  one  day  Owen  gave  him  a  note  to  Scherzer.  I  have  a 
copy  of  it." 

Captain  Howe  went  to  his  library  and  brought  back  an  old 
book ;  he  turned  to  a  certain  page  and  took  out  a  sheet  of 
paper  and  handed  it  to  me.  It  contained  some  lines  in  French, 
which  I  translate  literally :  — 

V 


HIGH  POLITICS  313 

"General  L.  per  special  messenger  notifies  your  E.  that  you  will  be 
protected,  and  your  work  furthered.  I  beg  that  you  come  up  at  once. 
There  is  more  news  that  I  dare  not  write.  But  for  my  wound  we  could 
go  at  once  to  R.  The  great  object  seems  in  sight.  The  South  is  for  the 
land  of  D.  and  L." 

"  Captain,  what  do  you  make  out  of  these  abbreviations  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  That  L.  stands  for  Lee,"  he  said ;  "  that  E.  is  for  Excel- 
lency, and  the  E.  for  Eichmond.  D.  and  L.  stand  for  God  and 
Liberty." 

"  You  think  then  that  Scherzer  —  ?  " 

"  I  feel  certain  that  he  is  an  emissary  of  Napoleon.  His 
work  is  in  the  interest  of  Maximilian.  The  letter  which  York 
saw  bore  the  bees,  the  emblem  of  the  Bonapartes.  The  land 
of  God  and  liberty  is  Mexico." 

"  But,  Captain !  Scranton  is  a  brutal  renegade !  How  can 
you  suppose  that  a  man  who  lurks  in  the  rear  of  Meade's  army 
for  the  purpose  of  robbery  can  be  engaged  in  such  high  poli- 
tics ?  " 

"  Captain  Owen  has  a  valid  commission  in  the  Confederate 
army,"  said  Showalter,  seriously. 

"  You  have  seen  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  it.  When  he  came  here  wounded,  and  begging 
succour,  my  first  demand  was  instantly  met.  I  saw  at  once 
that  his  men  were  a  very  motley  crew,  and  at  first  I  objected 
to  taking  their  leader  in,  for  everybody  around  knows  that 
Showalter  is  no  refuge  for  marauders.  I  saw  Owen's  commis- 
sion as  a  captain  in  the  Confederate  cavalry.  He  did  not  pre- 
tend to  be  a  Federal,  until  he  began  to  think  my  sympathies 
were  with  the  Union." 

"  But  what  can  they  expect  to  do  in  Lee's  army  ?  " 

"The  Confederate  States  is  approached;  not  Lee  merely. 
The  French  Empire  will  recognize  the  independence  of  the 
South,  provided  the  South  in  turn  recognizes  Maximilian's  gov- 
ernment ! " 


314        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

The  thing  looked  feasible,  especially  viewed  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Sho waiter's  earnest  belief,  and  under  the  influence, 
now  redoubled,  of  Dr.  Khayme's  utterance  in  regard  to  my 
work. 

"And  while  Scranton  was  with  General  Meade,  he  was 
a  party  to  this  plot  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  imagine  not,  at  least  at  first. 
No  doubt  Scherzer  sought  him  and  won  him  over." 

"  But  why  should  not  Scherzer  go  at  once  to  the  Confederate 
government  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  hard  question.  There  is  no  telling  how  long  or 
through  what  devious  train  this  thing  has  been  going  on." 

"  Did  you  see  the  date  of  Owen's  commission  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  some  time  in  June,  sixty-two." 

"  Then  he  was  a  spy  while  on  our  staff !  "    I  exclaimed. 

"Beyond  question,"  said  Showalter;  "and  he  had  ample 
opportunity.  He  showed  me  a  button  containing  an  order 
from  General  Meade  to  pass  him  everywhere." 

"  Great  God ! "  I  groaned.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you 
saw  the  order  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  did  not  ask  him  to  take  it  out." 

"  How,  then,  do  you  know  he  was  telling  the  truth  ?  " 

"  I  did  doubt,  at  first,"  said  Showalter ;  "  but  he  speedily 
convinced  me  that  the  button  had  been  made  especially  to  hide 
the  order,  and  I  saw  that  to  get  at  it  he  would  be  compelled  to 
break  the  thing.  He  said  he  had  lost  an  instrument  made  pur- 
posely to  open  it." 

"  How  did  he  convince  you  ?  " 

"He  simply  broke  another  button  like  it;  it  was  not  brass; 
it  was  brittle." 

It  was  useless,  I  thought,  to  tell  Showalter  all  the  story,  for 
I  should  then  be  compelled  to  say  much  more. 

"  Captain,  how  could  Scranton  hope  to  serve  France  and  the 
South  on  Meade's  staff  ?  The  thing  looks  absurd  ! " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Showalter ;  "  I  acknowledge  that  some 


HIGH  POLITICS  315 

of  his  conduct  is  a  mystery  only  to  be  explained  upon  the 
ground  of  his  avarice.  His  detaining  me  in  the  hope  of  ransom 
shows  that  he  is  willing  to  risk  a  great  deal  for  the  sake  of 
money." 

"  But  why  should  Scherzer  allow  him  to  do  such  things  ?  " 

"  Scherzer  was  made  to  believe  that  Owen  had  seized  me  as 
an  enemy  to  the  South.  The  question  of  ransom  did  not  come 
up  until  I  was  in  the  villain's  power,  and  I  doubt  that  Scherzer 
ever  knew  anything  about  it ;  he  was  filled  with  hostility  to 
the  North,  and  he  will  undoubtedly  inform  the  Confederate 
leaders  concerning  what  he  learned  about  me.  That  is  why  I 
say  my  usefulness  here  is  at  an  end." 

"And  you  go  North?" 

"  Yes,  York  and  I  shall  leave  this  country.  It  is  not  safe  for 
either  of  us." 

"I  wish  that  you  would  leave  York, "  said  I. 

"  Why  so  ?    What  good  could  he  do  here  ?  " 

"  Not  here,  Captain,  but  elsewhere." 

"  What  could  he  do  anywhere  ?  He  would  soon  join  the 
Federal  army,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  see  him  killed." 

"  I  think,  Captain,  that  he  could  secure  a  place  with  one  of 
my  friends." 

"  In  what  sort  of  work  ?  " 

"  The  service  of  the  Sanitary  Commission." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Maybe  I'll  change  my  mind,  but  I 
think  not." 

For  me  there  was  little  sleep  that  night.  The  revelation,  if 
it  may  be  called  so,  that  Showalter  had  made,  was  astounding. 
From  the  very  first  I  had  suspected  that  Scranton  was  playing 
a  part,  and  I  soon  had  found  reason  to  know  that  it  was  a  base 
part,  but  never  had  I  thought  of  so  enormous  a  scheme  as  the 
one  now  developed.  There  was  much  to  strengthen  Showalter's 
conception.  Maximilian,  now  on  the  throne  of  Mexico,  was  an 
eyesore  to  our  government,  which  yet  could  not  show  great  re- 
sentment through  fear  of  French  recognition  of  the  Conf eder- 


316        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

acy.  But  if  this  foreigner  was  a  diplomat,  or  emissary,  sent  to 
foster  the  interests  of  the  new  Empire,  why  should  he  have 
appeared  at  all  in  the  Federal  army  ?  That  was  the  one  ques- 
tion which  puzzled  me.  Could  he  have  hoped  to  gain  informa- 
tion that  would  serve  to  conciliate  the  obstinate  South  ?  Why 
should  the  South  be  obstinate  ?  Would  not  Mr.  Davis  and  all 
the  South  jump  at  the  chance  of  recognition  ?  For  the  Em- 
peror Napoleon  to  send  a  man  to  the  Confederate  authorities, 
in  order  to  arrange  the  bargain,  would  be  nothing  strange  — 
but  why  should  the  man  have  gone  to  General  Meade  ? 


a'-i 

UK 
•91 


XXIX 

"LIEUT,  c.  M.  CHA" 

"  I  wish  your  horses  swift,  and  sure  of  foot ; 
And  so  I  do  commend  you  to  their  backs." 

—  SHAKESPEARB. 

AT  sunrise  on  the  16th  we  rode  away  from  Showalter,  accom- 
panied by  its  master  and  York.  Captain  Howe  had  decided  to 
leave  at  once ;  with  the  change  of  base  to  City  Point,  the  force 
at  White  House  would  be  withdrawn  and  the  country  around 
could  no  longer  be  of  great  interest  to  the  Federals. 

Our  progress  was  slow  on  account  of  the  wounded,  who 
groaned  at  every  jolt  of  the  ambulance.  We  had  gone  perhaps 
three  miles,  when  Rice  called  out,  "  Here's  the  place !  "  I  had 
previously  told  Throop  that  I  was  going  to  follow  the  tracks 
of  the  enemy,  in  order  to  know,  if  possible,  whether  they  had 
crossed  the  river.  He  now  detailed  Rice  and  another  man, 
who,  with  York,  remained  to  help  me  while  the  party  rode  on 
to  White  House.  We  soon  found  the  tracks  of  horses  and  fol- 
lowed them  to  the  river ;  Owen  and  Scherzer  had  made  good 
their  retreat. 

At  White  House  the  air  was  thick  with  rumours  of  Hamp- 
ton's cavalry.  The  country  to  the  west  and  south  was  said  to 
be  overrun,  and  White  House  was  in  danger,  expecting  an 
attack  any  day.  As  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  now  south 
of  the  James,  communication  was  kept  up  by  way  of  Fortress 
Monroe. 

A  little  after  midday  I  rode  south.  I  was  not  alone.  Show- 
alter  had  decided  to  part  with  York.  No  doubt  I  had  helped 

317 


318        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

this  decision  by  urging  my  own  need  for  just  such  assistance 
as  York  could  frequently  give  me,  and  at  length  had  won  my 
cause  by  promising  to  attach  the  boy  to  my  own  fortunes.  The 
negro  had  wished  to  accompany  his  old  master,  and  yet  was  in 
dread  of  the  inclemency  of  the  North,  magnified  to  his  fancy 
by  tales  he  had  heard  from  Union  soldiers. 

I  had  not  wished  to  witness  the  separation.  Telling  York 
to  meet  me  at  the  picket  post  on  the  road  southward,  I  had 
wrung  Showalter's  hand,  and  had  gone  to  bid  good-by  to  Cap- 
tain Orr,  and  get  my  rifle.  The  adjutant  was  in  good  humour 
over  the  successes  of  the  parties  he  had  sent  out,  and  gave  me 
a  report  to  General  Meade.  A  big  bundle  belonging  to  York 
was  left  to  be  sent  by  water  to  City  Point.  My  old  blue  uni- 
form also  was  shipped. 

At  the  picket  post  I  had  not  long  to  wait.  York  soon  ap- 
peared—  yet  mounted  on  the  horse  he  had  been  riding,  and 
which  now  was  his  own.  I  had  not  expected  this  additional 
charge  in  the  matter  of  supplies,  but  I  comforted  myself  with 
the  belief  that  the  quartermaster  would  not  be  hard  on  me ; 
moreover,  York's  horse  could  sometimes  be  of  use  in  Dr. 
Khayme's  work. 

The  Southern  people  were  and  are  accustomed  to  say  that 
the  negro  is  the  happiest  creature  alive.  York's  depression 
soon  left  him.  Already  his  thoughts  and  his  tongue  were  busy 
in  regard  to  the  near  future.  He  foresaw  interest  and  pleasure 
in  the  great  camp  and  failed  to  see  the  toil  and  danger. 

We  rode  on  toward  the  Chickahominy.  I  would  go  as  nearly 
south  as  possible  for  Jones's  Bridge,  on  roads  which  I  had 
never  travelled,  and  in  a  country  which  York  had  not  seen  in 
years.  Still  in  Confederate  uniform,  I  hoped  to  find  little 
trouble  even  if  I  should  meet  Southerners ;  the  attendance  of 
a  negro  servant  would  prove  a  help  rather  than  a  hindrance. 

At  two  o'clock  we  were  at  the  cross-roads  near  Walls's  store  ; 
beyond  this  point  there  was  danger,  yet  I  still  kept  the  road. 
There  were  tracks  of  many  horses  at  the  cross-roads  —  going 


"LIEUT.   C.   M.  CHA"  319 

east.  A  mile  and  a  half  from  Walls's  is  another  cross-road ; 
this  also  was  covered  by  the  hoofprints  of  cavalry  —  going 
east.  We  rode  on,  I  in  front,  York  a  hundred  yards  behind 
me  and  looking  back  frequently.  At  a  brook  I  stopped  to  water 
my  horse ;  York,  riding  on,  overtook  me.  Just  as  we  were 
about  to  start  again,  a  group  of  Confederate  cavalry  came  riding 
down  the  hill  in  our  front ;  they  were  close  upon  us,  and  I  de- 
cided to  employ  impudence.  I  stopped  York,  and  we  let  our 
horses  drink  on. 

Six  men  were  coming  down  the  hill;  our  horses  were  cooling 
their  muzzles.  It  was  just  such  a  spot  as  you  have  seen  many 
a  time  —  a  clear  pool  at  the  right  of  the  crossing,  with  alder 
bushes  growing  thick,  and  little  minnows  and  water-bugs  swim- 
ming around  in  sun  and  shade,  with  the  pine  woods  on  the 
slope  of  the  hill ;  a  good  place  to  water  —  a  good  place  to  camp. 
I  had  my  eyes  on  the  men  coming,  who  were  yet  about  eighty 
yards  away.  I  could  see  that  they  were  silent  and  regardful, 
looking  at  me  with  interest.  And  now  I  heard  horses'  hoofs 
behind  me,  and  I  whispered  to  York  not  to  look  round ;  .  .  . 
our  horses  continued  to  play  with  the  water  .  .  .  the  party 
coming  in  front  were  in  thirty  yards  .  .  .  the  party  coming  in 
the  rear  were  in  close  hearing  distance  .  .  .  the  parties  met 
at  the  water.  A  lieutenant  —  by  the  bar  on  his  collar  —  and 
five  men  were  before  me.  I  saluted,  shivering  with  fear,  for  I 
knew  him.  The  lieutenant  returned  the  salute,  and  at  once 
saluted  again  —  this  time  to  those  I  did  not  see.  Each  party 
was  riding  on.  The  hollow  was  crowded  with  horses.  A  com- 
pany of  cavalry  was  passing  ahead  of  us,  going  up  the  hill 
southward.  I  looked  back.  Six  men  were  going  north,  but 
going  slowly,  and  turning  in  their  saddles. 

"  How  goes  it,  Chappell  ?  " 

A  lieutenant  at  the  rear  of  the  company  speaks  the  words, 
and  I  know  that  the  man  in  command  of  the  squad  is  named 
Chappell,  for  he  replies,  "  All  right ;  how  are  you,  Wilkes  ?  " 

We  had  reined  our  horses  back  out  of  the  way.     The  six 


320        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

men  stopped.  They  were  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  me. 
They  were  talking  and  pointing  —  pointing  toward  me.  I 
knew  what  they  were  saying — at  least  the  substance  of  it; 
in  the  lieutenant  whom  I  had  saluted  —  Lieutenant  Chappell 
—  I  had  recognized  the  officer  into  whose  hands  I  had  fallen 
when  I  went  into  The  Wilderness  for  Warren,  and  I  had  felt 
sure  by  his  look  that  he  knew  he  had  seen  me  before ;  he  was 
trying  to  place  me.  And  now  he  came  riding  back  alone.  On 
the  hill  behind,  some  of  his  squad  had  dismounted ;  they  were 
tightening  their  girths  —  some  of  them  stretching  their  legs. 
I  let  the  lieutenant  come ;  I  wanted  the  company  to  get  far 
ahead  of  me ;  we  might  be  compelled  to  run  for  it. 

The  lieutenant  halted  within  two  rods  of  me. 

"  I  thought  you  belonged  to  Company  D,"  said  he. 

"  Well,  sir ! " 

"  Why  are  you  lingering  here,  when  your  company  has 
gone  on  ?  Your  conduct  is  strange.  Where  have  I  seen  you 
before  ? " 

He  came  a  little  nearer,  and  looked  at  me  searchingly. 

"  Whose  negro  is  that  ?  " 

"  He  is  under  my  charge,  sir,  for  the  present.  I  am  going 
to  ride  on  in  a  moment,  sir." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  belong  to  the  cavalry ! " 

He  turned  round,  and  was  going  to  shout  to  his  men. 

"  Wait,  Lieutenant." 

He  stopped ;  he  was  staring  at  me ;  I  knew  that  he  had  put 
things  together. 

"  Don't  you  move  a  limb,  Lieutenant." 

I  had  turned  my  rifle  a  little,  so  that  its  muzzle  bore  on 
him;  he  could  hear  the  click  as  the  hammer  went  back. 

"I  shall  keep  you  here,  Lieutenant,  just  a  few  minutes. 
I  have  nothing  against  you,  but  you  have  no  authority  over 
me.  You  wish  to  prevent  me  from  doing  my  duty ;  I  shall 
not  submit  to  you  at  all." 

"  I  know  you  now ! "  he  said. 


"LIEUT.  C.  M.   CHA"  321 

"Do  you  think  I  will  let  you  keep  me  from  riding  after 
Company  D  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  cool  one ! "  he  said ;  "  you  are  no  more  a  Con- 
federate than  you  were  when  I  had  you." 

"I  tell  you  nothing,  sir;  imagine  as  many  things  as  you 
wish.  I  am  not  under  your  orders,  sir,  and  you  shall  not  com- 
mand me.  You  began  this  thing,  but  you  shall  not  have 
everything  your  own  way.  Promise  me  on  your  word  as  a 
gentleman  and  an  officer  that  you  will  not  ride  after  me!" 

"  You  will  get  no  such  promise ! " 

"If  you  use  force,  Lieutenant,  you  will  compel  me  to  use 
force.  Why  should  you  suppose  that  I  am  not  a  Confederate  ? 
When  you  see  your  brother  next  time,  —  your  brother  Osborn, 
I  mean,  of  Company  F,  Twelfth  South  Carolina,  —  give  him 
Berwick's  love." 

"  You  know  my  brother  Osborn  ?  " 

"  Only  three  days  ago  I  helped  him  off  the  field,  down  at 
KiddelPs  Shop ;  he  had  a  flesh  wound  in  the  thigh.  Did  you 
not  know  he  is  wounded  ?  " 

"  No ;  and  I  don't  believe  you  do,  either.  I  believe  you  are 
a  Yankee." 

"  Well,  sir,  believe  what  you  wish ! "  I  cried  out  angrily ; 
"  I  demand  that  you  let  me  alone ! " 

"  We'll  get  you ! "  said  he ;  "  maybe  you  can  outrun  us,  but 
we'll  run  you  into  some  of  our  men  somewhere." 

"  But,  Lieutenant,  I  shall  not  allow  you ;  be  sure,  once  for 
all,  that  you  shall  not  interfere  with  me ! " 

"  You  mean  that  you  will  kill  me  ?  " 

In  an  instant  he  has  turned ;  he  is  galloping  wildly  up  the 
hill,  waving  his  hand  and  shouting  to  his  men,  who  seem  to 
stand  still  with  wonder  for  a  moment.  In  that  moment  I 
give  York  the  word  and  we  dash  forward  on  the  road  to  the 
south.  Bullets  whiz  by  us,  and  soon  we  hear  horses  clatter- 
ing in  pursuit  where  they  strike  the  gravel  on  the  hillside. 
I  do  not  look  back.  York  —  a  light  weight,  and  on  a  better 


322       A 

horse  —  is  ahead,  going  like  a  greyhound,  and  gaining  distance 
at  every  leap.  The  road  turns  sharply  to  the  right  —  the 
dust  yet  full  of  the  tracks  of  Company  D.  Before  me  a  short 
stretch  of  the  road  is  vacant.  Had  York  so  far  outstripped 
me  that  he  has  already  passed  this  stretch  ?  .  .  .  not  easy  to 
believe  ...  he  is  flanking  .  .  .  and  now  I  hear  him  call 
softly  from  the  roadside,  and  I  pull  to  the  right,  and  we 
gallop  down  the  hill  through  the  woods,  and  wait. 


XXX 

CATCHING  TARTARS 

"  Bend  up 
Each  corporal  agent,  to  this  terrible  feat."  —  SHAKESPEABE. 

THE  pursuit  passed.  We  heard  shouts  up  the  hill,  and  the 
clatter  of  hoofs,  as  the  chase  dashed  by  on  the  road  we  had 
recently  left.  We  knew  the  enemy  would  soon  halt  and  search 
the  woods.  The  lieutenant  of  The  Wilderness  would  overtake 
Company  D,  and  would  spread  far  and  wide  through  this  hos- 
tile country  the  news  that  a  Federal  spy  was  here ;  vedettes 
would  be  posted  at  every  cross-road;  patrols  would  ride  the 
byways;  dismounted  men  would  search  the  forests  and  the 
swamps ;  the  farmers  would  be  warned. 

Now  I  bitterly  condemned  the  impatience  which  had 
prompted  me  to  leave  White  House.  A  day  or  two  of  delay 
and  I  should  have  found  a  safe  passage  on  some  transport. 
Instead,  I  was  here  in  the  forest,  tracked  by  foes,  surrounded 
by  foes.  The  sound  of  pursuit  had  died  away,  but  I  might 
expect  to  hear  it  afresh  at  any  moment.  My  enemies  knew 
every  footpath ;  ought  I  not  at  once  to  ride  east  ?  Should  we 
not  go  down  the  peninsula,  even  to  Yorktown  or  Hampton  ? 
A  far  ride,  but  was  it  not  a  safe  one  ?  I  thought  not.  Col- 
umns of  cavalry  had  gone  east. 

Yet,  after  a  while,  my  great  fear  departed;  surely  all  of 
Hampton's  cavalry  would  not  drop  their  other  duties  in  order 
to  secure  one  man ;  I  was  not  of  such  importance.  The  hunt 
would  be  given  up.  I  was  in  danger  for  the  moment,  but  so 
soon  as  track  of  my  flight  should  be  lost,  the  cavalry  would 
be  gone  about  other  and  greater  matters ;  Sheridan  was  giving 

323 


324       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

them  enough  to  do.  But  where  was  Sheridan  ?  He  was  north 
of  the  Mattapony,  marching  down  to  White  House.  He  held 
the  north,  and  Hampton  held  the  south;  Sheridan  could  do 
me  no  good.  My  going  east  would  do  no  good;  columns  of 
cavalry  had  gone  east. 

Now  I  wanted  to  put  distance  between  us  and  Chappell. 
Perhaps  he  had  divided  his  forces,  sending  some  to  the  right, 
others  to  the  left.  We  rode  two  miles  westward,  and  crossed 
a  large  open  field,  beyond  which,  on  a  high  hill  in  the  woods, 
we  halted.  We  watched  the  field. 

The  negro  could  be  of  no  general  service ;  he  could  help  at 
times,  but  his  judgment  was  worth  nothing  in  the  decision  I 
must  make  at  once.  Should  I  continue  west  ?  The  roads  to 
the  south  were  blocked ;  toward  the  east  columns  of  cavalry 
had  already  ridden;  at  the  north  was  White  House,  and  the 
abandonment  of  the  undertaking.  I  have  always  had  pride ; 
I  would  not  confess  failure ;  I  was  compelled  to  try  the  west, 
—  directly  toward  Richmond. 

"  York,"  I  said,  "  do  you  know  the  road  to  Richmond  ?  " 

"  No,  suh ;  not  f 'om  heah,  suh." 

"Do  you  know  any  road  to  Richmond?  Have  you  ever 
been  in  Richmond  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  suh ;  I've  been  in  Richmond  many  times." 

"  How  did  you  get  there  ?  " 

"  Crossed  at  Newcastle  Ferry,  suh,  and  went  by  01'  Chu'ch 
and  Mechanicsville." 

So  did  I  know  those  roads,  better  perhaps  than  York  knew 
them. 

"  But  do  you  know  anything  of  the  roads  below  that  road  ?  " 

"No,  suh." 

York  could  be  of  no  help  in  these  matters.  I  have  said 
this  before ;  I  thought  it  many  times.  Why  had  I  encumbered 
myself  with  this  negro?  Then  I  remembered  that  he  had 
saved  me  from  death  by  suffocation  in  the  burning  woods,  and 
I  was  ashamed. 


CATCHING  TARTARS  326 

It  was  about  five  o'clock.  The  woods  were  very  still.  Yet 
the  horses  were  restless  from  the  stings  of  insects.  I  seriously 
considered  whether  I  ought  not  to  abandon  the  horses ;  afoot 
we  should  run  less  risk.  A  giant  woodpecker  drummed  loud 
on  a  dead  tree  and  flew  away,  uttering  most  unearthly  notes — 
notes  such  as  I  have  imagined  barbarians  might  well  imitate 
with  rude  instruments  for  sounding  alarms.  We  had  brought 
forage  for  one  feeding,  and  it  was  already  high  time  the  horses 
were  fed.  Halfway  up  a  slender  elm  a  green  lizard  was  ex- 
tending his  red  throat  — "  showing  his  money,"  the  children 
say.  I  ordered  York  to  feed  the  horses.  Before  he  had  made 
a  movement  to  obey,  the  far  edge  of  the  field  in  our  rear  was 
dotted  with  horsemen  —  six.  They  were  coming  rapidly.  I 
knew  that  here  they  could  see  the  tracks  of  our  horses  in  the 
soft  earth. 

Again  we  mounted  and  rode  on  west ;  we  crossed  fields  and 
woods  and  roads.  At  every  wood  and  at  every  road,  I  knew 
that  our  pursuers  would  be  puzzled ;  yet  they  would  no  doubt 
persevere,  because  we  were  compelled  to  ride  west,  and  every 
mile  to  the  westward  was  taking  us  so  much  the  more  into 
their  country.  But  I  did  not  intend  to  go  west  always ;  when 
we  crossed  the  road  to  Bottom's  Bridge  we  turned  southwest ; 
after  going  a  mile,  we  halted. 

The  sun  had  set.  We  were  in  a  dense  thicket,  hidden  from 
the  road  which  we  must  cross  again.  The  horses  were  fed.  I 
was  lying  down  —  York  on  the  watch.  I  saw  him  kneel  and 
peep  through  the  bushes  toward  the  road,  and  with  my  ear  to 
the  ground  I  heard  horses,  and  another  movement  —  the  sound 
of  wheels  —  getting  more  and  more  distinct. 

To  creep  near  the  roadside  took  but  a  minute.  From  down 
the  road  a  carriage  was  coming  —  drawn  slowly,  the  horses  in 
a  walk.  It  was  yet  thirty  rods  away  —  a  closed  carriage,  with 
a  negro  driving.  Few  were  the  carriages  in  this  devastated 
region ;  few  were  the  visits  made ;  what  was  the  meaning  of 
this  one  ?  The  carriage  kept  coming. 


326        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

And  now  into  the  road  —  coming  from  the  east — a  squad  of 
cavalry  ride,  and  in  the  road  they  pause  for  an  instant ;  but 
they  see  the  carriage  and  ride  after  it  shouting.  The  carriage 
stops  almost  against  my  hiding-place.  Nine  men  ride  to  the 
carriage  and  surround  it.  These  are  not  Chappell's  men — a 
sergeant  is  in  command ;  he  is  at  the  north  side  of  the  vehicle, 
and  the  north  curtain  is  lifted  by  a  hand  within,  and  a  face 
appears  —  a  face  lighted  by  the  red  glow  at  my  right  where 
the  sun  has  just  now  set — the  face  of  Scherzer.  Curiosity 
holds  me  a  little  longer.  Clearly  an  investigation  is  being 
made.  I  see  a  paper  pass  from  Scherzer's  hand  into  the  ser- 
geant's, and  I  hear  voices  but  no  words.  The  horseman  reads 
the  paper  and  passes  it  back  into  the  carriage;  he  lifts  the 
curtain  high  and  wide,  and  leans  over  and  looks  into  the 
interior  for  a  moment,  and  then  withdraws.  The  talk  con- 
tinues ;  the  sergeant  points  in  many  directions ;  Scherzer 
shakes  his  head  vigorously,  and  breaks  into  a  stream  of  words ; 
the  sergeant  turns  his  horse  and  rides  up  the  road,  followed 
by  his  men. 

I  watched  the  carriage  continue  its  slow  progress  west. 
Owen  would  soon  be  in  Richmond.  The  cavalry  had  gone; 
had  given  up  the  hunt.  Scherzer  had  satisfied  the  investiga- 
tion, but  had  not  been  able  to  tell  anything  of  the  fugitives. 
Scranton  had  held  himself  in  the  background  —  doubtless  with 
the  purpose  of  playing  the  wounded  Confederate. 

In  a  minute  I  was  back  with  York.  He  looked  at  me 
anxiously.  Doubtless  I  was  excited. 

"  Will  you  stand  by  me  ?  " 

"  Th'ough  thick  and  thin,  Mahs  Jones." 

"  None  of  that  Mahs  Jones.  Scranton  and  Scherzer  are  at 
our  mercy." 

"  But  we  ah  not  ahmed,  suh." 

True  —  in  my  excitement  I  had  forgotten.  Yet  I  must  not 
give  up  this  chance.  Success,  I  saw,  required  skill  rather 
than  haste.  An  assault  on  the  carriage  might  fail.  The  men 


CATCHING  TAKTAKS  327 

were  bold  —  no  doubt  of  that  —  and  well  armed  to  a  certainty. 
We  had  mounted. 

"York,  there  is  a  carriage  going  to  Richmond,  and  Owen 
and  Scherzer  are  in  it.  A  negro  is  driving.  There  is  no 
escort.  We  must  take  the  whole  outfit  before  it  crosses  the 
Chickahominy." 

"  We  might  take  'em  and  kill  'em,  suh ;  but  how  can  we 
keep  'em  ?  How  can  we  get  'em  away  ?  " 

"  We'll  hide  in  the  swamp,"  said  I. 

« I'll  stand  by  you,  suh ! " 

u  Then  set  your  wits  to  work.  We  must  stop  that  carriage 
and  get  those  men  !  " 

Scranton's  condition  would  at  first  be  in  our  favour  —  but 
how  could  we  get  a  wounded  prisoner  through  the  swamp  ? 
How  could  we  make  our  way  for  days  thus  encumbered  ?  Yet 
I  had  decided  to  take  what  chance  there  was,  although  I  had 
been  almost  in  despair  concerning  our  own  chances.  The  pros- 
pect of  ultimate  success  was  small,  but  I  must  risk  every- 
thing to  get  those  men  and  their  papers. 

We  crossed  the  road,  and  took  a  southwest  course  for  a  mile 
or  more,  going  rapidly.  We  were  in  the  edge  of  the  swamp, 
two  hundred  yards  below  the  road  and  well  hidden.  We  tied 
our  horses  and  approached  the  road  afoot.  We  had  not  long 
to  wait.  The  carriage  was  coming ;  when  opposite  our  stand, 
York  sprang  to  the  heads  of  the  horses;  the  driver  reined 
up  instantly ;  in  another  instant  York  was  at  the  far  side 
of  the  carriage,  and  I  had  the  old  Enfield  presented  at  my 
window. 

"Captain  Scranton,  you  are  my  prisoner  again,  sir.  You 
are  surrounded ! " 

Inside  the  carriage  was  dark.  Suddenly  a  ball  grazed  my 
temple,  and  by  the  flash  I  knew  that  Scherzer  had  fired. 
Almost  blind,  I  thrust  the  gun-barrel  full  at  his  head ;  he  fell 
back. 

"  I  give  it  up ! "  said  Scranton. 


328        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

It  had  taken  but  a  minute.  I  ordered  Scranton  to  get  out 
He  seemed  to  be  burdened  by  Scherzer —  now  insensible. 
York  dragged  the  Frenchman  off,  and  Owen,  with  much  delay, 
came  out.  When  he  stood  on  the  ground,  he  looked  about  him, 
and  seeing  me  only,  exclaimed :  "  Surrounded !  Truly,  Berwick, 
*  thou  art  of  a  crescent  note  ' !  " 

"We  are  enough,  Captain ;  enough  to  kill  you  if  you  attempt 
resistance  or  flight !  York." 

"  Yes,  suh."     He  came  running  to  my  side. 

"  Pull  that  man  out  of  the  carriage ! " 

Scherzer  was  yet  without  motion,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  I 
had  crushed  his  skull.  When  York  had  dragged  him  to  the 
ground,  he  lay  like  a  log. 

The  negro  driver  had  disappeared. 

"  See  if  he  has  any  more  pistols." 

York  felt  about  the  man  and  found  a  short  revolver. 

"He  had  another;  give  me  that  one,  and  look  in  the 
carriage." 

York  soon  had  Scherzer's  other  pistol. 

"Now  search  Captain  Owen." 

Scranton  made  no  resistance ;  he  was  found  to  be  unarmed. 
I  searched  the  carriage  for  papers,  but  got  nothing  except  a 
haversack  and  a  basket.  I  wanted  papers,  and  I  wanted  my 
button.  If  they  were  not  in  the  haversack,  I  would  examine 
my  prisoners'  clothing  to-morrow.  Scherzer  still  lay  on  the 
ground.  We  must  hasten,  for  the  report  of  the  pistol  might 
have  been  heard,  yet  prudence  was  worth  as  much  as  haste. 
I  would  take  the  chance  of  the  driver's  running  for  freedom. 
I  ordered  York  to  take  the  bridle  reins  from  the  carriage 
horses ;  then  to  mount  the  box  and  drive  down  the  road  till 
he  could  see  the  creek,  then  to  get  down  and  run  back  to  me 
and  to  bring  the  lines  with  him.  When  the  vehicle  should  be 
found  it  would  not  be  in  the  place  where  we  had  attacked  it, 
and  would  confuse  the  chase  —  at  least  I  hoped  so. 

"  You've  killed  him,  Berwick." 


CATCHING   TARTARS  329 

"  Oh,  no,  Captain  j  I  think  he  is  yet  living." 

" '  He  lives  in  fame,  but  not  in  life, ' "  he  quoted.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  us  ?  " 

"  Captain  Scranton  —  " 

"  My  right  name  is  Owen,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,  Captain  Owen,  you  must  pardon  me  for  not 
telling  you  my  plans." 

"  Berwick,  join  us ;  with  your  ability  we  can  make  millions 
—  millions  —  millions." 

"  Join  you  in  what,  Captain  Owen  ?  " 

"  In  a  movement  to  give  peace  to  the  country,"  he  said 
eagerly. 

"  Was  your  waylaying  Miss  Khayme  a  part  of  the  move- 
ment ?  " 

"  I  give  you  my  word  as  a  gentleman  —  a  gentleman  —  that 
that  unfortunate  affair  was  the  veriest  accident." 

"  Was  your  robbing  me  of  my  button  part  of  your  plan  ?  " 

"  What  button,  Berwick  ?    I  know  nothing  about  buttons." 

York  was  coming,  panting. 

"  I  left  'em  on  the  bank  of  the  creek,  suh." 

"  Stand  guard  over  Captain  Owen,"  said  I ;  "  tie  him  first." 

Owen  submitted,  protesting  that  my  conduct  was  cruel.  A 
hasty  examination  convinced  me  that  Scherzer  was  alive. 

Now  I  ordered  York  to  bring  up  both  horses.  He  was  gone 
five  minutes  perhaps  —  minutes  of  great  suspense.  Every 
instant  I  expected  to  hear  enemies  coming. 

Owen  renewed  his  appeals ;  I  gave  no  reply.  My  mind  was 
on  York  and  on  Scherzer,  and  on  the  probability  of  being  com- 
pelled to  run  and  lose  my  captives. 

York  returned;  we  laid  the  Frenchman  across  my  horse, 
and  went  into  the  swamp.  Our  progress  was  very  slow.  I 
ordered  Owen  to  keep  Scherzer's  head  from  drooping.  York 
in  front  led  my  horse,  while  I  in  the  rear  led  his.  We  could 
not  go  very  far,  yet  it  was  necessary  to  place  ourselves  at  a 
distance  from  the  road.  Owen  again  begged  me  to  join  his 


330        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

fortunes!  I  ordered  York  to  halt.  Scherzer  was  laid  on  the 
ground. 

Owen  also  lay  down,  saying,  " '  Faintness  constraineth  me 
to  measure  out  my  length  on  this  cold  bed.' " 

I  feared  to  make  a  light.  Scherzer  was  breathing  heavily. 
York  went  to  the  creek  and  brought  water  in  his  hat,  and  I 
sprinkled  it  upon  the  face  of  the  injured  man. 

I  suppose  it  was  about  ten  o'clock.  The  mosquitoes  were 
something  terrible.  Owen  seemed  asleep ;  I  put  his  hat  over 
his  face. 

"York,"  said  I,  "you're  a  jewel;  I  could  not  have  done 
this  thing  at  all  without  you."  Then  my  conscience  felt 
relieved. 

The  horses  hung  their  heads.  They  seemed  very  patient ; 
they  knew  we  had  nothing  for  them. 

From  moment  to  moment  there  came  a  low  rumble  from 
the  south  —  Lee  and  Grant  contending  for  Petersburg  thirty 
miles  away.  How  could  I  get  there  ?  The  James  was  far, 
and  all  the  country  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  I  saw  no  way 
out.  Perhaps  I  was  bilious. 

We  worked  on  Scherzer.  I  did  not  believe  for  a  moment 
that  Owen  was  asleep.  He  was  playing  the  part  of  a  master 
indifferent  to  a  servant's  troubles ;  to  show  anxiety  would  be 
confession  of  too  great  interest  in  the  foreigner. 

Scherzer  was  breathing  freely;  in  a  short  time  he  began 
to  move.  I  left  York  with  him  and  sat  by  Owen.  I  said, 
"  Captain  Owen,  your  servant  has  revived." 

There  was  no  reply.  Owen  continued  to  snore.  I  bent 
down  and  felt  of  his  bonds ;  they  were  secure. 

I  ordered  York  to  do  two  things.  The  first  was  to  tie 
Scherzer.  The  act  would  have  been  cruel,  but  that  it  was 
necessary.  The  second  was  to  find  a  corn-field  and  fetch 
feed  for  the  horses.  While  York  was  gone  I  thought  seriously 
of  killing  the  horses.  They  might  be  of  service  after  a  while, 
but  just  now  they  were  a  great  hindrance.  I  decided  to  wait. 


CATCHING  TAKTAKS  331 

We  might  be  here  for  days,  or  we  might  be  compelled  to  run 
at  any  hour.  Just  how  we  could  ever  get  out,  I  could  not  see ; 
I  was  feverish. 

The  horses  began  to  make  low  noises  of  eager  expectation ; 
York  was  returning  loaded  with  green  corn.  Now  I  ordered 
him  to  untie  Scherzer's  bonds. 

There  was  gloom  in  the  swamp,  though  overhead  the  moon 
was  very  bright.  Our  hiding-place  was  near  the  creek.  The 
ground  was  damp.  The  prisoners  were  lying  on  our  saddle 
blankets,  Scherzer  with  a  wet  handkerchief  on  his  head.  I 
had  been  unable  to  see  the  extent  of  his  hurt.  As  yet  he 
had  not  uttered  a  word. 

I  told  York  to  go  to  sleep.  I  knew  that  for  me  there  was 
no  sleep ;  my  head  was  burning  hot. 

I  sat  on  my  saddle  almost  between  the  prisoners.  York 
was  lying  near  the  horses.  I  would  wake  him.  when  I  should 
become  sleepy  —  I  had  told  him  so  at  least. 

The  moon  was  past  the  meridian.  The  frogs  croaked  —  the 
insects  swarmed  —  the  horses  quietly  fed.  At  last  Scherzer 
spoke. 

"  Quel  jour  du  mois  avons-nous  aujourd-hui  ?  " 

"  The  sixteenth,"  I  replied. 

"  L'empereur  .  .  .  qui  est  la  ?  " 

"  Berwick  is  here,  and  Owen." 

For  a  long  time  he  was  silent.  I  feared  lest  he  should  suc- 
ceed in  putting  things  together  and  would  rise  and  run. 

"  Ees  dat  Misser  Bairveek  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Can  I  help  you,  Scherzer  ? "  I  knew  from  his 
speech  that  his  mind  was  clear;  he  was  feigning. 

"  Ees  dat  Misser  Bairveek  ?  "  he  repeated. 

«  Yes." 

"  And  vere  is  de  capitan  ?  " 

"  He  is  here  also." 

"  I  did  you  try  to  shoot,  Misser  Bairveek  ?  " 

«  Yes." 


332        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

He  muttered  something  which  I  could  not  understand,  then 
he  called,  "  Capitan  Scranton  ! " 

Owen  did  not  reply.  I  was  sure  that  he  was  not  asleep,  and 
supposed  he  feared  that  Scherzer,  in  first  consciousness,  would 
betray  their  real  relations  ;  he  refused  to  speak. 

The  moon  was  halfway  down  the  west.  The  horses  had  fin- 
ished eating,  and  stood  motionless.  I  bent  over  and  tied 
Scherzer's  hands.  My  head  was  spinning. 

To  have  fever  in  this  swamp  would  be  ruin.  What  could 
York  do?  He  would  have  two  wounded  men  —  prisoners  — 
to  guard  and  to  provide  for ;  he  would  have  two  horses  to  pro- 
vide for ;  he  would  have  me  to  provide  for.  He  would  be  in 
hourly  dread  of  discovery.  To  feed  the  horses  he  must  make 
many  absences;  in  his  absence  the  prisoners  would  escape.  I 
knew  something  about  the  swamp  fever.1  I  had  seen  friends 
in  either  army  with  the  dreadful  disease ;  then,  too,  they  had 
been  on  dry  ground,  in  tents,  well  cared  for.  But  to  have  it 
in  this  swamp ! 

I  shook  York.     He  sat  up,  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"  York,  I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  be  sick."  I  said  this  in  a 
whisper,  for  I  did  not  want  the  prisoners  to  hear. 

The  negro  put  his  damp  hand  on  my  forehead.  "  Lawd-a- 
mussy,  honey,  you  is  sho  got  it !  But  don't  you  mine  dat ; 
Yawk'll  nuss  you,  honey ;  Yawk'll  tek  keer  o'  you.  Come,  lay 
right  down  heah  an'  be  quiet.  I'll  keep  dem  skeetehs  off  o'  you 
and  nuss  you  up,  so  I  will.  Lay  right  down  and  go  to  sleep." 

"  York,  if  I'm  worse  in  the  morning,  you  must  not  let  these 
men  go." 

"  Fo'  what  I  let  'em  go,  Mahs  Jones  ?  " 

"  Because  you  can't  attend  to  us  all.  Take  your  pistol  and 
march  them  to  White  House.  Don't  let  them  get  away." 

1  "  Chickahominy  fever  may,  in  a  great  measure,  be  prevented ;  but  when  it 
has  once  occurred,  its  subjects  are  lost  to  the  army  so  far  as  this  campaign  is 
concerned."  —  Report  of  Surgeon  McParlin,  Medical  Director,  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  [Ei>.] 


CATCHING  TARTARS  333 

"  Misteh  Behwick,  these  men  ah  not  going  to  get  away  f ' om 
me." 

"  Promise  me,  York,"  I  repeated  imploringly. 

"Well,  honey,  I  promus;  I'll  do  w'at  you  say;  now  go  to 
sleep." 

But  I  knew  what  his  promise  meant.  It  had  been  given  as 
to  a  child.  He  could  not  keep  it. 

The  night  was  going.  I  was  very  sick  —  getting  worse  and 
worse.  York  sat  by  me,  brushing  away  the  insects ;  his  pistol 
was  between  his  knees.  The  prisoners  were  quiet. 

Day  came.  I  could  see  Owen  stir.  He  had  slept,  or  pre- 
tended to  sleep,  from  eleven  o'clock  until  morning. 

I  made  York  examine  the  haversack  and  basket.  He  found 
food  —  nothing  else  except  a  tin  cup.  York  ate,  and  Owen, 
but  Scherzer  refused ;  for  me  food  was  repulsive. 

By  a  great  effort  I  nerved  myself  to  examine  Scherzer's 
head.  The  hair  was  matted  with  blood.  York  washed  it; 
then  I  could  see  that  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle  had  cut  the  scalp 
in  a  groove  about  two  inches  long.  I  did  not  think  the  skull 
injured.  Again  I  lay  down. 

The  horses  must  be  fed.  They  were  stretching  their  necks 
and  biting  the  bushes  and  the  bark  of  the  trees.  Again  I  sum- 
moned all  my  nerve  and  stood  up. 

"  York,  go  and  get  more  corn ! " 

The  negro  shook  his  head,  and  looked  at  me  meaningly ;  I 
knew  what  he  was  wishing  to  say ;  while  he  was  gone  the 
prisoners  might  overcome  my  poor  strength.  I  repeated  the 
order,  and  he  went. 

My  head  seemed  afire;  my  temples  throbbed.  I  wanted 
nothing  but  to  lie  down  on  cold  linen  sheets.  Yet  my  will  had 
not  entirely  gone.  I  could  guard  these  men  until  York  re- 
turned—  what  is  pain?  Cannot  pain  be  conquered?  This 
disease  must  be  conquered,  or  I  am  lost.  I  stood  against  a 
tree  ;  the  tree  gave  me  a  little  relief.  Owen  had  his  eyes  on 
me.  No  doubt  he  was  thinking  that  I  looked  weak  and  ill. 


334       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

He  must  not  think  so;  I  stood  straight.  Scherzer,  too,  was 
watching  me.  Both  men  were  yet  in  bonds.  Scherzer  was 
lying  down ;  Owen  was  sitting  against  a  tree,  his  hands  behind 
his  back. 

York  was  long  in  coming ;  with  greatest  effort  I  forced 
myself  to  remain  standing.  Scherzer's  eyes  were  closing,  I 
thought ;  yet  I  could  see  that  they  were  not  entirely  closed. 
Now  Owen  is  on  his  feet ...  he  has  the  Enfield  ...  he  levels 
it  full  at  my  breast,  within  six  feet  of  the  muzzle.  I  let  him 
pull,  but,  for  fear  that  he  may  run,  I  cover  him  with  my  pistol. 
He  throws  down  the  useless  gun  with  a  curse. 

Scherzer  had  not  said  a  word.  Owen's  hands  were  free,  and 
I  could  not  venture  to  tie  him  until  York  should  come.  I 
made  Owen  sit  near  Scherzer. 

Yes,  I  had  found  that  I  could  control  myself.  I  had  found 
that  my  will  was  good ;  I  would  use  it.  I  would  conquer  this 
disease. 

When  York  returned,  he  said,  "Fo'e  Gawd,  Mahs  Jones, 
you's  gittin'  betteh ! " 

I  did  not  reply.  I  took  the  Enfield,  and,  before  the  eyes  of 
my  prisoners,  picked  powder  into  the  nipple,  and  recapped  it. 


XXXI 

A   VHEEK   OF   AGONY 

"  In  the  great  hand  of  God  I  stand  ;  and,  thenoe, 
Against  the  undivulged  pretence  I  fight 
Of  treasonous  malice."  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

I  DETERMINED  that  I  should  not  lie  down.  York  bound 
Owen  again.  While  the  horses  were  feeding  I  determined 
that  the  march  should  begin  now.  My  head  was  humming 
and  my  skin  was  hot,  and  my  pulse  beating  fast  and  strong, 
and  I  knew  that  York's  exclamation  had  been  provoked  not 
by  any  physical  improvement,  but  by  the  look  of  will  in  my 
face ;  this  will  was  yet  to  be  made  good. 

"  York ! " 

"Yes,  suh." 

"  Go  down  the  creek  half  a  mile,  —  a  mile — two  miles,  —  go 
as  far  as  need  be  to  find  a  better  place  than  this.  Come  back, 
and  we'll  move  to  it." 

"  Yes,  suh  ;  you  think  you  can  stand  it,  Mahs  Jones  ?  " 

"  I  can  stand  it.  Now,  mind  you,  the  place  must  not  be  be- 
yond a  field  or  any  open  space  which  we  must  cross.  Open 
spaces  must  be  crossed  at  night ;  understand,  York  ?  " 

York  had  understood;  he  had  nodded  his  head  and  had 
gone.  The  horses  continued  feeding.  I  was  hoping  that  York 
would  soon  return ;  I  feared  lest  my  will  should  give  way  if, 
in  consequence  of  his  finding  no  good  hiding-place  near  by, 
my  efforts  must  be  long  continued. 

"  Berwick,"  said  Owen,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  beg  a  private 
talk." 

336 


336        A  FBIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"I  cannot  grant  your  request  at  this  time.  If  you  have 
anything  important  to  say,  say  it." 

"Not  now,"  said  he ;  " I'll  wait." 

I  was  glad  to  postpone ;  I  had  enough  to  do  to  keep  my  will 
at  work  fighting  fever.  The  sun  was  making  the  swamp  very 
hot  —  here  in  the  jungle  there  was  no  air  stirring.  Haven't 
you  noticed,  many  a  time,  how  hot  a  June  morning  can  be 
between  sunrise  and  nine  o'clock  ?  If  I  was  getting  any  bet- 
ter, the  weather  deserved  no  credit  for  it.  I  hoped  that 
York  would  find  a  place  where  we  could  get  more  air,  and 
where  there  was  a  good  spring  near  by;  the  water  of  the 
creek  was  deadly ;  I  would  drink  no  more  of  it ;  how  my  tem- 
ples throbbed ;  how  dry  my  hands  were ;  how  hot  the  sun  was, 
and  my  mouth  was,  and  my  skin  was,  and  the  whole  world 
was.  I  caught  myself  involuntarily  stooping  to  sit  down. 
I  willed  and  stood  erect. 

I  could  see  Owen  watching  me.  "  Horrible  place ! "  said  he ; 
"  why  not  end  this  thing  ?  "  I  did  not  reply.  I  must  not 
allow  distraction;  I  must  will  to  will  —  and  I  must  keep 
it  up. 

A  sparrow-hawk  caught  a  little  bird  just  on  the  edge  of  the 
swamp.  There  was  a  dull  roar  in  the  south.  Scherzer  was 
very  quiet.  I  had  not  heard  him  speak  once  since  sunrise, 
not  even  to  Owen.  From  time  to  time  I  poured  a  little  water 
on  his  head. 

York  was  back  at  last.  He  had  found  a  spot  —  a  good 
spot  beyond  which  we  could  not  go  until  night  —  a  mile  down 
the  swamp.  We  had  difficulty  in  getting  Scherzer  on  York's 
horse.  The  negro  led  the  way,  my  rifle  in  one  hand  and  his 
bridle  in  the  other.  Then  came  Owen,  hands  bound  behind 
his  back,  I  following  him  closely  and  leading  my  horse. 
Scherzer's  condition  was  the  great  hindrance ;  we  had  to  make 
many  turns  away  from  overhanging  limbs  which  would  have 
knocked  the  Frenchman  to  the  ground.  York  went  very 
slowly ;  he  had  protested  that  I  was  killing  myself ;  the  only 


A  WEEK  OF  AGONY  337 

consideration  that  kept  him  from  breaking  out  into  open 
rebellion  was  that  he  had  found  a  better  place.  The  negro 
as  yet  did  not  know  my  plan;  indeed,  I  did  not  know  it 
fully  myself;  but  he  understood  that  we  must  move  down 
the  swamp,  for  in  every  other  direction  the  enemy  held  the 
world. 

Possibly  we  were  more  than  two  hours  on  this  funereal 
march  ;  when  we  stopped,  the  sun  was  almost  overhead.  But 
the  place  was  a  good  one,  compared  with  that  we  had  left. 
Near  the  bank  of  the  creek  was  a  mound  perhaps  two  feet 
higher  than  the  surrounding  space,  and  on  this  mound  was  but 
little  undergrowth.  We  were  completely  hidden  by  the  forest, 
yet  had  for  ourselves  a  little  room  and  a  little  air. 

On  one  side  was  a  bed  of  cedar  boughs,  which  I  saw  at  once 
York  had  meant  for  none  but  me.  I  helped  Scherzer  down 
and  made  him  lie  on  the  bed,  York  scowling  horribly.  I 
must  fight  fever.  I  wanted  to  lie  on  that  bed ;  I  wanted  to 
yield ;  I  wanted  to  tell  Owen  to  be  gone,  so  that  I  could  lie 
down  and  cease  to  struggle  and  cease  to  think,  but  my  pride 
kept  me  up.  I  was  proud  of  my  will-power ;  my  self-respect 
would  not  let  me  confess  defeat. 

The  prisoners  were  on  the  cedar  bed.  The  horses  were  tied 
to  trees ;  York  had  watered  them.  I  stood  apart,  pistol  ready, 
while  the  negro  worked.  I  did  not  know  what  he  was  work- 
ing at,  but  he  soon  came  from  the  bushes  with  more  cedar 
boughs  in  his  arms;  he  threw  them  down  before  me,  and 
arranged  a  bed;  then  he  begged  me  to  lie  down. 

The  temptation  was  great.  I  did  not  believe  that  the  fight 
had  yet  been  won.  I  must  struggle  on,  and  this  day  win  or 
lose,  for  my  strength  to  struggle  would  not  last  another  day. 
I  shook  my  head. 

York  came  near  me  and  talked  in  a  whisper. 

"  But  Mahs  Jones,  you  must  take  some  rest." 

"  No,  York ;  I  must  fight  this  fever,  or  we  are  lost." 

"  But  Mahs  Jones,  you  ain't  had  no  sleep,  and  you  been 


338        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

a-watchin'  all  night  and  all  de  mawnin'.  Lemme  take  my 
tuhn  now,  Mahs  Jones." 

"  York,  I  cannot  lie  down  before  this  fever  leaves  me." 

"  Hit  leavin'  you  now,  suh ;  hit  leavin'  you  now ;  lay  right 
down  heah,  an'  go  to  sleep ;  w'en  you  wake  up,  hit'll  all  be 
gone,  suh." 

I  did  not  lie  down.  York  had  only  encouraged  me  to  per- 
severe j  he  had  given  me  more  faith. 

The  condition  of  the  prisoners  was  grievous.  I  wanted  to 
loose  their  bonds,  but  with  a  sick  man  guarding  them  the 
thing  could  not  be  done.  York  was  frequently  away  —  first 
for  cedar  boughs,  then  for  water,  then  for  young  corn ;  he 
worked  to  make  the  place  comfortable. 

I  had  begun  to  feel  faith ;  I  began  to  know  that  I  should 
win.  I  put  York  on  guard,  and  walked  down  the  creek  to  the 
clearing  through  which  it  would  be  dangerous  to  pass.  It  was 
not  very  large.  We  would  cross  it  before  the  next  day,  and 
keep  on  and  rest  again  at  the  next  opening.  My  mind  was 
clearer ;  I  had  faith.  I  came  back  and  went  to  the  bank  of 
the  stream.  Ought  we  not  to  get  at  once  to  the  west  bank  ? 
The  farther  we  should  go  down-stream,  the  greater  the  diffi- 
culty in  crossing ;  and  if  we  should  ever  reach  the  track  of  the 
Union  army  and  the  pontoon  bridge  across  the  James,  we  must 
first  cross  the  Chickahominy.  Better  cross  it  now. 

"  York,"  I  said,  "  we  must  cross  this  river." 

The  negro  made  a  gesture  of  despair.  "  Lawd,  Mahs  Jones, 
how  you  do  go  on !  You  gittin'  heap  betteh,  and  now  you 
want  to  git  wet  and  be  wuss  ag'in  ?  Dat  won't  neveh  do ! " 

"  We  may  wait  a  day  first,"  said  I,  "  but  we  must  get  across. 
Find  the  shallowest  place  you  can;  and  don't  fear  for  me; 
the  only  difficulty  will  be  the  horses  and  the  prisoners." 

And  now  the  fellow  tacked  to  suit  the  wind.  "  We  neveh 
gwine  to  git  'em  across,  Mahs  Jones ;  de  hosses'll  bog  up, 
and  we  neveh  can  git  'em  out.  Ef  we  swim  'em  across,  dey'll 
neveh  git  out  on  de  yutheh  side ;  dey'll  slip  back  agin  —  you 


A  WEEK  OF  AGONY  339 

know  dey  will.  Mahs  Jones,  you  lay  right  down  heah  till  you 
gits  well,  and  den  we'll  git  out  o'  dis  swamp  and  git  away  easy." 

"  Make  everything  ready  for  night,"  said  I ;  "  then  go  out 
and  find  a  crossing." 

Scherzer  now  ate  a  little.  Owen  ate  all  that  was  given  him. 
The  supply  of  food  was  gone.  I  gave  York  money  and  bade 
him  find  food.  I  must  yet  stand  guard  over  the  prisoners. 
There  was  little  or  no  danger  in  York's  foraging.  There  was 
no  body  of  Confederates  near  us.  All  we  had  to  fear  was  the 
road  behind  us  and  the  road  before  us ;  by  these  two  roads  no 
doubt  bodies  of  cavalry  occasionally  crossed  the  Chickahom- 
iny ;  the  swamp  itself  was  secure ;  the  hills  and  farms  between 
the  main  roads  would  not  be  watched ;  possibly  foragers  would 
be  everywhere,  yet  what  could  foragers  hope  to  find  here,  only 
a  few  miles  in  rear  of  the  position  held  by  Meade's  army  for 
almost  two  weeks  ?  York's  success  in  getting  young  corn  for 
the  horses  had  been  beyond  my  hopes.  I  told  him  that  if  he 
would  cross  the  Chickahominy  he  would  find  food. 

Before  dark  he  returned,  very  wet  and  very  muddy,  but  he 
had  a  crocus  bag  on  his  shoulder;  he  produced  corn,  oats, 
bread,  and  beef.  The  prisoners  ate,  and  the  horses  were  fed. 

"  Now,  Mahs  Jones,  you  mus'  lay  down,"  said  York,  for  the 
hundredth  time.  But  York  had  worked  hard ;  he  was  in  no 
condition  to  watch.  A  negro  is  a  poor  sentinel  if  we  can  be- 
lieve what  is  said  of  him ;  I  feared  lest  York  should  sleep  on 
post.  I  did  not  feel  the  need  of  sleep ;  I  feared  sleep,  lest,  in 
the  relaxation  of  my  will,  I  should  lose  all  I  had  won.  I  made 
York  sleep,  and  the  prisoners  slept. 

My  struggle  continued,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  yet  gaining, 
and  I  had  actual  joy  in  the  belief  that  I  should  at  \ast  get  the 
prisoners  to  the  Union  army.  And  then  the  thought  came  to 
me  that  even  though  we  could  not  cross  the  Chickahominy, 
yet  we  could  go  down  its  left  bank  and  reach  the  James,  and 
I  knew  that  the  James  was  full  of  our  ships.  This  thought 
came  and  went,  for  on  that  night  I  banished  even  thought  of 


340        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Lydia,  and  held  to  the  fight  against  fever.  But  the  fight  was 
not  such  as  it  had  been.  The  main  struggle  had  been  won, 
the  only  fear  was  lest  the  dreadful  thing  should  return. 

At  some  time  in  the  middle  of  the  night  I  found  my  skin 
moist  and  cool ;  a  feeling  of  utter  exhaustion  began  to  creep 
upon  all  my  senses,  and  I  feared  that  I  should  be  asleep  before 
I  could  wake  York.  Yet  once  again  I  exerted  all  my  powers. 
I  commanded  the  disease  to  go,  and  continued  to  command, 
and  willed  to  remain  alert.  "  Go !  go !  go ! "  I  mentally 
exclaimed,  as  though  to  a  creature  that  might  hear  and  obey 
me;  "go,  and  be  gone,  and  stay  gone  forever !  "  and  faith  grew 
very  strong,  and  I  knew  that  I  was  cured. 

I  woke  York.  When  he  fully  knew  that  he  was  to  relieve 
me  on  guard,  and  that  I  had  consented  to  rest,  the  fellow's  joy 
was  very  great. 

"  But,  Mahs  Jones,  we  ain't  got  no  time  now !  You  done  let 
de  moon  go  most  down  befo'e  you  woke  me  up." 

It  was  true.  The  long  night  had  nearly  ended  when  my 
struggles  had  ended  ;  it  was  almost  day,  and  we  must  be  mov- 
ing. We  woke  the  prisoners,  and  made  a  start,  and  before  the 
dawn  we  had  crossed  the  open  space  in  our  front ;  and  now  I 
felt  that  I  could  rest  in  peace,  and  waited  only  until  York  had 
completed  his  dispositions  for  the  daily  bivouac ;  then,  he  on 
guard,  I  sank  into  a  deep  and  dreamless  sleep. 

This  was  the  18th  of  June.  When  I  awoke  it  was  afternoon. 
We  moved  down  the  river  and  came  to  a  good  halting-place  for 
the  night.  I  was  very  weak,  but  my  head  was  free  and  light, 
and  I  could  eat  a  little.  Again  I  stood  guard  while  York 
foraged. 

On  the  19th  we  moved  but  half  a  mile  before  we  were  com- 
pelled to  halt.  On  the  20th,  the  Long  Bridge  road  was  before 
us.  In  the  night  York  scouted  this  road,  and  returned  with 
the  news  that  the  bridge  was  held  by  a  post  of  soldiers,  and  I 
knew  that  they  could  be  none  other  than  Confederates.  We 
crossed  the  road  under  cover  of  the  darkness. 


A  WEEK  OF  AGONY  341 

Why  continue  this  narration  ?  It  is  the  same  monotonous 
tale.  But  a  few  miles  a  day,  sometimes  but  half  a  mile,  we 
went  on  down  the  stream.  After  the  18th  I  had  tried  to  make 
the  prisoners  comfortable.  I  had  allowed  their  hands  to  be 
tied  loosely  in  front,  so  that  they  could  use  either  hand,  but 
could  not  reach  their  bonds  with  either.  Scherzer  was  improv- 
ing. He  said  little,  but  he  ate.  Owen  seemed  to  suffer;  he 
seemed  older.  York  was  the  only  strong  man  of  the  four,  yet 
I  was  getting  stronger  every  day ;  I  slept  by  day,  and  York 
by  night.  I  watched  Owen  almost  constantly;  Scherzer  gave 
me  little  trouble ;  his  great  fear  of  me  was  evident.  Doubtless 
he  felt  that  the  man  who  had  almost  killed  him  was  a  desperate 
man  ;  I  was  willing  that  he  should  think  so. 

We  had  examined  the  prisoners'  clothing,  but  failed  to  find 
what  I  sought,  Owen  protesting  that  the  search  was  needless,  as 
all  papers  and  articles  of  value  had  been  hidden  in  the  carriage. 

On  the  23d  we  were  approaching  Jones's  Bridge.  We  had 
made  ten  miles  in  a  week.  It  was  yet  in  the  forenoon.  The 
main  road  was  at  a  distance,  —  a  mile  or  more,  —  but  I  knew 
that  before  I  should  reach  it  we  must  cross  a  smaller  road 
that  led  into  the  main  road  almost  at  the  bridge.  We  had 
halted,  and  York  had  gone  forward  to  examine  the  ground.  I 
was  thinking  it  was  time  for  him  to  return,  when  I  heard  a 
noise  in  the  bushes,  and  felt  relieved,  —  he  must  be  coming,  — 
but  instead  of  York,  a  Confederate  cavalry  sergeant  rode  up 
to  me,  and  almost  at  once  fell  fainting  from  his  horse. 

York  now  came  up.  I  made  him  move  the  prisoners  some 
thirty  yards,  so  that  they  could  not  overhear.  I  attended  to 
the  wounded  man,  whom  I  had  at  once  recognized  as  Sergeant 
Crump.  His  wound  was  no  serious  matter,  —  only  a  bullet  in 
the  left  arm,  —  but  he  had  lost  much  blood.  He  opened  his 
eyes. 

"  Tell  me  how  you  got  hurt,"  I  said. 

"  I  was  scouting.  The  Yankees  are  advancing  to  the  bridge. 
Some  of  them  saw  me  and  fired." 


342        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"Where  was  it?" 

"  Near  the  Jones's  Bridge  road." 

"  How  far-away  ?  " 

"  About  a  mile.    I  held  out  as  long  as  I  could." 

"  Sergeant  Crump,  don't  you  know  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,  though  your  face  seems  familiar." 

"Don't  you  remember  finding  a  man  in  the  hands  of  the 
Yankees  on  the  eleventh  of  May  ?  " 

"  I  do ;  are  you  that  man  ?  Let  me  see ;  what  is  your 
name?" 

"  Jones." 

"  And  you  belong  to  McGowan's  brigade  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  Jones,  I'm  certainly  glad  to  fall  in  with  you.  What 
are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  I  am  guarding  some  prisoners." 

"  Guarding  prisoners  in  this  swamp  ?  " 

"Yes;  they  are  regenades.  You  could  see  them  if  you 
were  standing  up.  They  claim  to  belong  to  either  side  at 
times.  I  must  hold  them  till  I  can  turn  them  over  to  our 
men." 

"  All  of  our  men  have  gone  across,"  said  he,  meaning  across 
the  Chickahominy. 

"  And  where  are  the  Yankees  ?  " 

"They  are  coming  on  the  Jones's  Bridge  road  —  coming 
from  White  House.  A  brigade  or  two  are  in  the  road  just 
this  side  —  they  are  protecting  the  flank  of  Sheridan's  corps, 
and  they  are  moving  everything  from  White  House  to  the 
James.  They  have  nearly  a  thousand  wagons.  You'd  better 
not  stay  here." 

To  get  Crump  across  the  river  as  soon  as  possible  was  my 
first  purpose.  I  could  not  hold  him  as  a  prisoner,  for  I  had 
too  great  anxiety  already  in  regard  to  more  important  cap- 
tives ;  moreover,  he  had  done  me  a  kindness,  and  I  owed  him 
his  liberty. 


A  WEEK  OF  AGONY  343 

I  called  out,  "  York,  is  it  possible  for  all  of  us  to  get  across 
the  creek  ?  " 

"  No,  suh." 

"  Could  Sergeant  Crump  get  across  ?  " 

Before  York  could  answer,  Crump  said :  "  I  don't  care  if  I 
can't ;  I  can  ride  up  to  Long  Bridge  if  need  be ;  I'm  strong 
enough  for  that.  But  why  don't  you  come  too  ?  " 

"  My  prisoners  are  both  suffering,"  said  I ;  "we  wanted  to 
cross,  but  concluded  it  was  impossible.  They  are  wounded, 
and  I  cannot  leave  them." 

I  offered  to  send  York  up  the  creek  with  him,  but  Crump 
declined  my  offer.  The  blood  had  been  stanched  and  he  now 
felt  stronger.  I  helped  him  on  his  horse,  bade  him  good-by, 
and  went  to  York,  whom  I  sent  with  Crump  to  the  creek. 
Meantime  slight  skirmish  firing  was  heard  far  below. 

When  York  returned  he  reported  that  Crump  had  succeeded 
in  partly  fording  and  partly  swimming  the  creek. 

"  What  did  you  find  below,  York  ?  " 

"  The  road,  suh,  is  full  of  cavalry." 

"  Union  ?  " 

"  Yes,  suh." 

"  The  Jones's  Bridge  road  ?  " 

"  No,  suh ;  I  did  not  get  that  fah.  I  mean  the  road  this 
side." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  that  road  ?  " 

"  Only  about  a  quauteh,  suh." 

Now  we  feared  little,  and  moved  rapidly ;  in  half  an  hour 
York  in  the  lead  halted,  and  I  heard  voices.  I  could  see  the 
road.  A  blue  column  of  horse  was  passing  to  the  right.  In 
another  minute  I  was  in  their  presence ;  my  labours,  my  anx- 
iety, my  sufferings,  had  all  ended. 

Yet  I  had  a  little  trouble  in  making  Colonel  Covode  of  the 
Fourth  Pennsylvania  cavalry  understand  my  position.  I  was 
in  Confederate  uniform,  bringing  prisoners  to  the  Federals,  and 
for  some  minutes  I  had  to  undergo  a  process  of  questioning. 


344        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

At  length  Colonel  Covode  ordered  the  prisoners  to  be  taken 
to  the  rear  and  put  into  an  ambulance. 

"  Colonel,"  said  I,  "  be  so  good  as  to  have  your  adjutant  give 
me  a  receipt  for  my  prisoners." 

"  Certainly,"  said  he,  and  directed  that  my  request  should 
be  met;  the  adjutant  wrote  in  the  receipt  the  names  of  the 
prisoners  —  Owen  alias  Scranton,  and  Scherzer,  for  I  wished 
to  show  General  Meade  not  that  I  had  taken  prisoners,  but 
that  I  had  taken  Scranton. 

Gregg's  brigade,  to  which  the  Fourth  Pennsylvania  be- 
longed, remained  almost  stationary  for  the  remainder  of  the 
day. 

We  learned  that  an  immense  wagon-train  was  passing  in 
our  rear. 

In  the  afternoon  the  adjutant  sent  for  me  and  said,  "  Your 
prisoners  claim  that  they  are  Federals,  and  that  you  are  a  Con- 
federate." 

"  Captain,  they  are  trying  to  deceive  you,"  said  I ;  "Scranton 
was  once  a  Federal,  or  pretended  to  be ;  he  was  once  on  Gen- 
eral Meade's  staff,  but  General  Meade  now  knows  his  true 
character."  Then  I  showed  the  adjutant  General  Abercrom- 
bie's  report,  which  I  was  to  deliver  to  General  Meade. 

I  heard  nothing  more  concerning  this  question.  York  and  I 
were  furnished  with  provisions  for  ourselves  and  horses.  In 
the  afternoon  we  crossed  the  Chickahominy  and  bivouacked. 
On  the  morning  of  the  24th  the  brigade  moved  on  southward, 
making  for  the  pontoon  bridge  near  Bermuda  Hundred.  The 
trains  were  on  a  parallel  road  at  our  left.  Hampton's  cavalry 
were  known  to  be  at  our  right,  and  apprehension  of  attack  was 
visible  on  the  countenances  of  officers  and  men ;  the  train  was 
in  peril.  Near  St.  Mary's  Church  we  heard  skirmishing  in 
front.  The  brigade  dismounted  and  formed  line  of  battle,  one 
man  in  every  four  being  detailed  to  hold  the  horses.  York 
and  I  were  at  the  rear.  The  ambulances  were  soon  too  few,  for 
wounded  began  to  come  in  from  the  front,  where  the  fight  was 


A  WEEK  OF  AGONY  345 

loud.1  Ambulances  were  emptied  of  former  occupants  in  order 
to  take  wounded  soldiers  to  the  rear.  It  began  to  be  rumoured 
that  the  wagon-train  had  been  diverted  in  order  to  gain  safety 
farther  down  the  James,  and  orders  were  received  by  the 
Fourth  Pennsylvania  to  hold  the  ground  at  all  hazards.  Owen 
and  Scherzer  were  lying  on  the  ground,  surrounded  by  a  guard. 
Scattering  bullets  were  flying  over  from  the  front  and  left ;  we 
were  under  a  hill  and  in  no  danger,  but  about  four  o'clock  a 
great  storm  of  noises  broke  out  on  the  right,  and  at  once 
Gregg's  men  gave  way  —  they  had  to  run  or  be  taken ;  Hamp- 
ton's whole  division  was  upon  them.  Yet  our  men  did  not 
leave  the  field  entirely.  The  Fourth  was  soon  rallied,  and  con- 
tinued to  fight;  but  Colonel  Covode  fell,  and  again  the  regi- 
ment broke  under  a  fresh  charge  of  Hampton's  men.  The 
guard  was  forced  to  run  and  leave  the  prisoners,  and  many  of 
our  own  wounded  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  In  this 
mixture  I  had  been  compelled,  for  safety  — being  yet  in  gray  — 
to  remain  near  the  guard,  in  fact,  I  had  been  acting  as  one  of 
the  guard ;  but  now  I  had  to  choose  between  flight  and  cap- 
tivity. The  field  was  deserted,  and  in  another  moment  Hamp- 
ton's men  swept  over  it  and  continued  to  advance.  Great 
shouts  of  "  Rally  !  Rally  at  the  woods!"  were  heard  among  the 
fleeing  troops.  The  horses  and  horseholders  had  gone.  A 
new  line  was  formed  at  the  woods,  and  a  short  delay  gained. 
I  looked  sorrowfully  to  the  front ;  I  knew  that  Owen  and  Scher- 
zer would  soon  be  in  Richmond,  and  safe. 

The  retreat  continued  rapidly.  The  Confederates  pursued 
us  as  far  as  St.  Mary's  Church,  where  fresh  troops  were  hurried 
up  by  Sheridan,  and  the  inglorious  conflict  came  to  an  end. 
Colonel  Covode  was  dead.  The  Fourth  had  lost  many  in  miss- 
ing, besides  killed  and  wounded.  The  First  Maine  had  been 
terribly  cut  up. 

1  General  Gregg  says,  in  his  report  of  the  cavalry  fight  at  St.  Mary's  Church, 
"  For  want  of  sufficient  ambulances,  a  number  of  our  wounded  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy."  [ED.] 


346       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

When  the  Confederates  ceased  to  attack  it  was  dark.  I 
sought  the  adjutant  and  told  him  of  my  misfortune.  In  the 
midst  of  so  much  greater  misfortune,  he  could  give  me  no  con- 
solation. But  on  the  25th,  at  Charles  City  Court-House,  I  per- 
suaded him  to  give  me  a  statement  that  the  two  prisoners  had 
been  retaken  in  battle  by  Hampton's  cavalry. 

We  marched  down  to  Major  Douthat's  farm.  Transports  of 
all  kinds  were  now  busily  engaged  in  taking  the  wagon-train 
across  the  James,  for  the  pontoon  bridge  was  far  up  the  river, 
with  Hampton's  cavalry  between  us  and  the  bridge-head.  I 
have  often  wondered  why  the  Confederates  did  not  continue 
their  attacks,  for  Sheridan  and  the  wagon-train  were  in  im- 
mense danger ;  probably  it  was  ignorance  of  the  situation,  as 
well  as  fear  of  our  gunboats,  that  held  the  enemy  back. 

I  cannot  dwell  upon  the  unpleasant  experiences  of  these 
days ;  I  had  not  recovered  my  strength ;  my  Confederate  uni- 
form drew  around  me  a  crowd  whenever  I  moved  a  few  yards 
away  from  the  headquarters  group ;  I  was  out  of  place,  sick  at 
heart,  disappointed  of  a  great  success  which  I  had  held  in  my 
hand,  and  fearful  of  the  coming  interview  with  General  Meade. 

On  the  26th  York  and  I  got  across  the  James,  in  a  boat 
crowded  with  wagons,  and  before  night  I  reported  at  Army  Head- 
quarters. I  had  been  absent  twelve  days. 


XXXII 

A   FORLORN   HOPE 

"  My  will  to  serve  you  now  knows  no  division 
Save  the  alternate  beat  of  love  and  fear. 
There's  danger  in  this  quest  —  name,  honour,  life  — 
My  lord,  the  stake  is  great."  —  GEORGE  ELIOT. 

THINGS  were  not  going  in  a  way  to  suit  General  Meade's 
hopes;  the  surprise  of  Petersburg  had  been  attempted  and 
had  failed.  Disobedience  or  misconstruction  of  orders  had 
rendered  other  carefully  laid  plans  abortive,  and  the  Union 
army  seemed  no  nearer  victory.  Its  general  was  becoming 
crabbed ;  my  report  of  Scranton's  first  escape  was  but  another 
drop  added  to  the  bitter  bucketful.1 

The  general  had  used  some  very  strong  language  which 
I  knew  I  did  not  deserve.  I  saluted  stiffly,  and  started  to 
retire. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Berwick  ? "  he  asked  sternly ;  "  I 
have  not  dismissed  you." 

I  stopped  and  saluted  again. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  General ;  I  thought  you  had  finished." 

"  You  thought  no  such  thing,  sir.  I  know  what  you  thought. 
Upon  my  soul,  everybody  about  me  —  "  he  paused  and  made  a 
gesture  signifying  reluctance  to  give  utterance  to  'his  thought. 

"  What  has  become  of  Captain  Howe  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  left  him  at  White  House  on  the  sixteenth,  sir ;  he  told 
me  he  should  no  longer  reside  in  the  South." 

i  "  His  (Meade's)  own  staff  officers  do  not  dare  to  speak  to  him  unless  first 
spoken  to."  Dana  to  Stanton,  July  7, 1864.  [ED.] 

347 


348        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Berwick,  I  should  have  pursued  Scranton  if  I  had  been  in 
your  place.  Upon  my  soul,  I  should." 

"  His  right  name  is  Owen,  General." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Showalter  saw  his  commission,  sir,  as  a  captain  in  the  Con- 
federate army." 

"  That  proves  nothing.     When  was  it  that  he  got  away  ?  " 

"The  fifteenth,  sir." 

"  And  what  have  you  been  doing  since,  Berwick  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  General.  On  the  sixteenth  I  re- 
captured Owen  and  Scherzer." 

"  What !  Upon  my  soul !  Why  the  hell  didn't  you  tell  me 
that  before  ?  Where  is  Scranton  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is  in  Richmond,  General." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  man  ?  " 

"He  escaped  again,  General,  or  rather  Hampton's  cavalry 
picked  him  up.  Please  let  me  tell  you  the  whole  thing,  sir." 

When  I  had  concluded  my  narrative,  and  had  shown  General 
Meade  the  receipt  I  had  taken  for  the  two  prisoners,  he  had  the 
goodness  to  say  that  he  had  been  wrong  in  scolding  me. 

"  General,"  said  I,  "  I  haven't  told  you  all  yet." 

"  Well,  what  more  ?  " 

"  I  think  Owen  is  inferior  to  Scherzer." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?     Less  a  dam  rascal  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  mean  to  say  that  Scherzer  is  not  the  servant,  but 
the  master." 

I  told  him  Sho waiter's  opinion,  and  the  indications  in  the 
swamp  pointing  toward  Mexico.  General  Meade  made  no  re- 
sponse to  these  utterances,  yet  I  could  see  that  he  was  very 
serious,  watching  me  intently  while  I  was  speaking.  When  I 
had  finished,  he  said  gravely  :  "  See  that  you  tell  no  man  your 
suspicions.  This  is  a  dangerous  affair,  Berwick.  It  would 
have  been  better  if  you  had  killed  Scherzer.  Of  course,  I 
don't  mean  that  exactly ;  but  if  you  had  crushed  his  skull,  it 
would  have  simplified  matters  very  much.  Now,  let  me  tell 


A  FORLORN  HOPE  349 

you,  we  must  not  give  him  up  yet.  We  must  get  him  out. 
How  we  are  going  to  do  it  I  don't  see,  but  if  it  can  be  done  .  .  . 
if  you  can  do  it,  your  fortune  is  made." 

"  He  is  in  Richmond,  General." 

"  Other  people  can  get  into  Richmond." 

"  You  mean  to  suggest,  Gen —  " 

"  Yes,  I  mean  to  suggest.  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  Go  to 
Doctor  Khayme.  Tell  him  these  things  confidentially.  Tell 
him  what  I  want,  and  what  you  want  to  do,  and  see  if  he  can 
help  you.  He's  a  wonderful  man,  that  Doctor  .  .  .  upon  my  soul 
he  is." 

"General,  I  need  rest.  I've  told  you  I  was  sick  in  the 
Chickahominy  swamp,  but  I  have  not  told  you  all  of  it.  I  had 
a  hard  fight,  and  I  need  rest." 

"  Certainly,  Berwick ;  I  shall  require  nothing  of  you  except 
to  try  to  get  Scherzer  and  Scranton.  No ;  never  mind  about 
Owen ;  get  Scherzer.  Take  all  the  rest  you  need,  of  course, 
Berwick.  Go  to  Doctor  Khayme.  You  and  he  can  devise  a 
plan ;  make  a  good  scheme ;  take  all  the  rest  you  need.  Report 
to  me  again  in  a  day  or  two.  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,  and  that's 
saying  a  good  deal.  You  shall  have  everything  necessary; 
don't  stint ;  make  a  good  plan,  no  matter  what  it  costs  —  we 
must  put  a  stop  to  this  thing." 

And  now  I  sought  my  dearest  friends.  Lydia  was  with  her 
father.  Under  an  open  fly  the  two  were  sitting,  unmindful  of 
my  approach.  And  I  was  afraid  —  afraid  that  my  sudden 
appearance,  after  so  long  a  time,  would  prove  a  shock ;  I  knew 
that  my  sufferings  had  changed  me  greatly.  So  I  wrote  my 
name  on  a  scrap  of  paper  and  sent  York  forward  with  it.  Dusk 
was  gathering.  In  the  west  a  heavy  cloud-bank  betokened  rain, 
and  the  darkening  northern  horizon  flashed  intermittently  over 
the  whole  quarter.  I  saw  Lydia  take  the  paper ;  I  saw  her  rise 
at  once,  and  hand  it  to  her  father,  and  then  turn  with  eager 
questions  to  the  negro.  York  pointed,  and  I  rushed  to  my 
loved  ones. 


350        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  But,"  said  the  Doctor,  after  a  while,  "  why  did  you  not  see 
Lydia  on  the  thirty-first  ?  " 

"  Her  ship  came  up  to  the  landing  as  I  marched  away  from 
White  House  with  the  Eighteenth  corps." 

"  And  on  the  fourteenth  ?  " 

"  Captain  Orr,  of  General  Abercroinbie's  staff,  told  me  the 
medical  people  had  all  sailed  on  that  very  morning." 

"  It  was  true,"  said  Lydia ;  "  we  reached  White  House  late 
on  the  thirty-first  of  May,  and  left  it  early  on  the  four- 
teenth of  June." 

"  And  each  day  I  missed  you  by  a  few  hours,"  said  I. 

My  friends  were  speedily  made  aware  of  our  inheritance  in 
the  person  of  York,  and  he  was  welcomed  and  given  a  place. 
When  not  needed  for  work  in  connection  with  my  own  duties, 
he  was  to  look  after  all  the  horses,  and  to  make  himself  gen- 
erally useful. 

To  my  story  about  Scherzer  and  Showalter,  and  the  project 
in  regard  to  Mexico,  Dr.  Khayme  listened  without  emotion ; 
then  he  said :  — 

"  You  have  already  told  these  things  to  General  Meade,  no 
doubt." 

"Yes,  Doctor." 

"  And  you  found  that  he  had  previously  known  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  tell  me  plainly ;  but  I  inferred  that  he  knew 
something.  He  commands  me  to  continue  my  efforts  to  capture 
Scherzer,  and  refers  me  to  you  for  guidance." 

"  It  will  not  be  easy  to  take  Scherzer,"  he  said. 

"  He  is  no  doubt  safe  in  Richmond  and  will  not  leave  it," 
said  I. 

"  You  cannot  ride  into  Richmond  at  the  head  of  a  cavalry 
regiment." 

"  No ;  the  thing  must  be  done  by  stratagem." 

"  The  negro  can  help." 

"  I  have  thought  so." 

"  Well,"  said  Dr.  Khayme,  "  I  will  think  about  it ;  mean- 


A  FORLORN   HOPE  351 

time,  get  a  good  rest.  In  a  day  or  two  I  will  see  General 
Meade  and  talk  with  him  about  these  things.  You  need  rest, 
Jones  ;  go  to  bed." 

"  One  moment,  Doctor.  Can  you  not  let  me  into  this  Scher- 
zer  secret  ?  Who  is  Scherzer  ?  " 

"  An  envoy  of  Napoleon,  as  you  suspected." 

"  But  why  was  he  in  the  Federal  army,  pretending  to  be  a 
servant  of  a  pretended  Federal  officer  ?  " 

"  Napoleon's  first  efforts  were  for  Federal  alliance,"  replied 
my  friend.  "After  the  Federal  Congress  voted  against  the 
monarchy  in  Mexico,  Scherzer  decided  to  try  the  Confeder- 
acy ;  thus  much  is  pretty  clear,  and  the  rest  is  not  important 
to  know.  General  Meade  naturally  feels  that  the  Frenchman's 
efforts  to  trade  with  the  Confederates  should  be  defeated ;  that 
is  all  that  concerns  us." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  thought  I  have  had." 

"  Certainly." 

"  Is  it  not  possible  that  there  was  more  than  one  diplomat 
sent  to  the  United  States,  and  that  while  Scherzer  was  the 
one  selected  to  attach  himself  to  the  army,  the  others  were  in 
Washington  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  not  only  possible,  but  even  likely." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  more  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I'd  rather  you  would  go  to  bed,  but  I'll  relieve 
your  curiosity  first.  Scherzer  landed  in  New  York  as  a 
Russian  named  Espinoff,  in  March,  sixty-three.  He  had  the 
appearance  of  a  wealthy  gentleman.  In  April  Owen  came  to 
his  rooms.  Owen  was  dressed  as  a  citizen  at  the  time;  the 
records  of  the  military  prison  at  Elmira  show  that  Captain 
R.  S.  Owen  was  sent  south  —  exchanged  —  on  the  last  day  of 
February.  How  he  avoided  going  south  is  not  known,  but  he 
was  seen  with  Espinoff  frequently,  and  it  was  clear  that  Es- 
pinoff had  vast  resources.  Owen  then  appeared  as  Captain 
Scranton,  volunteer  aide  on  Hooker's  staff,  and  Meade  suc- 
ceeded to  him.  Scherzer  did  not  appear  as  Scranjton's  servant 


352        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

until  September  —  only  a  month  before  you  returned  to  us. 
Of  course,  we  can  see  that  Scherzer  bought  Scranton,  and  it  is 
easy  to  believe  that  the  wealthy  foreigner  had  such  influential 
connections  here  that  no  difficulty  was  found  in  placing  Scran- 
ton.  I  suspected  him  very  early,  but  had  no  proof;  indeed, 
proof  would  have  done  no  good,  as  it  is  no  crime  to  work  for 
Napoleon.  When  Scherzer  came,  I  suspected  more  strongly. 
I  could  easily  see  that  Scherzer  was  a  very  bad  counterfeit  as 
a  servant.  But  at  that  time  there  was  nothing  to  show  that 
they  intended  trying  the  Confederacy ;  that  thought  came 
later,  or,  it  may  be,  it  was  an  alternative  impressed  upon 
Scherzer  by  his  master." 

"  Did  General  Meade  know  that  Scranton  was  interested  in 
Mexico  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he  cared  little  for  that ;  he  was  deceived  as  to 
Scherzer,  and,  of  course,  had  no  thought  of  his  going  to  the 
Confederate  authorities." 

"  But  why  should  Scherzer  pretend  to  be  a  servant  ?  " 

"  He  was  assaulted  when  in  New  York  ;  he  thought  himself 
in  danger  as  Espinoff ;  he  knew  that  he  was  under  suspicion." 

"  But,  Doctor,  what  could  he  hope  for  in  the  army  ?  And 
what  did  Scranton  hope  for  ?  " 

"  Scranton  hoped  for  monetary  reward.  Espinoff  hoped  at 
first  to  develop  a  sentiment  favourable  to  a  Mexican  monarchy 
among  the  great  merchants  in  New  York.  Indeed,  he  had 
some  success  in  this.  Afterward  he  hoped  that  with  Owen's 
help  he  could  develop  the  same  sentiment  in  the  army.  He 
had  some  success  there,  also.  The  plot,  as  you  suspected,  had 
many  ramifications.  Scherzer  was  not  sent  to  the  United 
States  alone." 

"  And  as  soon  as  their  schemes  fail,  they  try  the  South  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Scranton,  however,  was  hampered  by  his  service  as 
a  Federal.  No  doubt  his  desertion  from  the  Confederates 
would  have  been  permanent  if  the  French  had  secured  Fed- 
eral alliance.  When  he  left  us,  his  intention,  I  think,  was  to 


A  FORLORN   HOPE  353 

return  to  New  York  and  try  to  go  South  by  sea;  but  he  aban- 
doned that  slow  and  uncertain  process  for  a  quicker  one.  He 
tried  to  get  around  your  flank  into  Lee's  army  and  thus  into 
Richmond.  He  had  almost  succeeded  when  you  came  upon 
him  near  Milford." 

"But  why  should  the  Confederates  delay  in  accepting  a 
proposition  from  France  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  would,  unless  France  loaded  her  pro- 
posal with  terms.  But  is  it  certain  that  the  proposal  has  yet 
been  made  ?  General  Meade  wishes  to  prevent  its  being  made. 
Now,  Jones,  my  boy,  you  are  ordered  to  bed.  I  shall  not  say 
one  word  more.  Yes,  I  must  say  one  word,  lest  I  should  for- 
get it.  You  must  never  risk  that  swamp  again.  A  second 
attack  of  that  fever  would  be  fatal  to  you.  Go  to  bed." 

A  few  quiet  days  of  great  happiness  passed  swiftly  away. 
In  three  hearts  the  belief  was  strong  that  the  war  was  soon  to 
end.  Clearly  the  Confederates  were  in  their  last  stronghold, 
and  were  making  their  last  gallant  defence.  The  offer  of 
an  alliance  with  France  would  revive  their  hopes,  but  Dr. 
Khayme  did  not  believe  that  French  recognition,  or  even 
French  aid,  could  at  this  late  date  save  the  Confederacy.  The 
war  must  end  before  any  great  number  of  French  troops  could 
be  landed  on  our  shores.  He  said  more  than  once  that  the 
capture  of  Johnson's  divison  on  the  12th  of  May  at  the  horse- 
shoe salient  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  And  with  all  the 
lights  before  me,  I  must  now  believe  that  he  was  right.  No 
doubt  the  Confederates  fought  well  after  the  12th  of  May; 
but  I  am  confident  that  they  fought  with  much  less  hope. 
They  expected  the  Union  army  to  attack,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  they  were  restrained  to  an  almost  purely  defensive 
policy;  indeed,  they  defeated  many  attacks,  but  the  opinion 
rapidly  spread  in  their  ranks  that  surrender  was  but  a  ques- 
tion of  time.  It  is  readily  admitted  that  in  small  opportunities 
they  took  the  offensive,  and  sometimes  gained  a  brilliant  suc- 
cess—  but  only  a  partial  success  which  could  not  turn  the 


354        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

general  course  of  the  war,  and  was  worth  only  a  little  delay ; 
the  end  must  come,  and  they  felt  it  —  yet,  sad  though  it  be,  it 
is  nevertheless  a  proud  situation  which  Lee's  army  held.  It 
had  sustained  world  shocks,  and  would  yet  sustain  them,  and 
would  struggle  on  to  the  last,  and  fall  like  a  giant. 

******* 

It  was  the  night  of  the  1st  of  July.  General  Meade  had 
sent  for  me,  and  I  was  again  in  his  presence. 

"  You  have  conferred  with  Doctor  Khay me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  General,  and  I  am  ready." 

"The  help  that  I  can  give  you  is  money  only.  Will  you 
have  it  in  gold  or  in  paper  ?  " 

"  How  much  is  it  to  be,  General  ?  " 

"Name  any  amount  not  to  exceed  twenty  thousand." 

"  Better  be  gold,  General,  or  Confederate  money." 

"  You  may  take  five  hundred  thousand  in  Confederate  money 
if  you  wish  —  or  even  more ;  and  you  need  not  smile,  you  ras- 
cal ;  it's  not  counterfeit." 

"  I  suppose  I'd  better  divide  it,  General.  Give  me  a  thou- 
sand in  gold,  and  two  hundred  thousand  in  Confederate  money. 
How  much  will  a  thousand  in  gold  weigh  ?  " 

"  A  few  pounds  only,  —  say  four  or  five,  —  I  don't  know  ex- 
actly. When  do  you  start  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  night,  sir." 

"Well,  I'll  have  the  funds  sent  to  Doctor  Khayme  to-mor- 
row morning.  Now  tell  me  your  plans." 

"  I  shall  get  into  Richmond,  General,  and  watch  for  oppor- 
tunities. Colonel  Sharpe  has  given  me  some  letters  to  loyal 
persons,  and  some  other  things,  and  Doctor  Khayme  has  given 
me  one  to  an  old  friend — a  physician — who  knows  everybody 
and  who  will  help  me.  I  shall  take  a  negro  with  me  —  York 
—  who  once  belonged  to  Captain  Howe.  York's  mother  is  in 
Richmond.  He  can  be  of  great  help,  I  think.  My  only  pur- 
pose will  be  to  capture  Scherzer  and  get  him  into  the  Union 
lines.  To  capture  him  will  be  easy,  I  think ;  to  bring  him  in, 


A  FORLORN  HOPE  355 

will  be  the  trouble.  I  may  be  compelled  to  send  York  back 
here  for  help  ;  but  I  hope  to  get  along  without  troubling  you. 
I  can  hire  enough  help,  I  trust." 

"Don't  trouble  about  Scranton.  Let  the  scoundrel  alone. 
You'll  have  enough  to  do  to  get  the  other.  Have  you  a  map  of 
the  city?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Have  you  thought  of  the  river  route  coming  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  I  fear  that  the  Confederate  obstructions  would 
prove  insurmountable,  especially  the  pontoon  bridges;  yet  that 
is  the  shortest  way,  and  I  may  be  tempted  to  try  it." 

"  Berwick,  if  you  succeed,  I'll  make  you  a  colonel.  Do  you 
know  that  I'd  like  to  go  with  you  ?  Upon  my  soul,  I'd  like 
nothing  better  than  to  lay  down  this  job  of  mine  and  go  with 
you  ! "  and  General  Meade  laughed  heartily.  "  How  do  you 
expect  to  get  into  Richmond  ?  " 

"  As  a  Confederate,  sir.     I'll  go  on  the  north  side." 

"Yes.  Well;  good-by,  Berwick.  Remember  what  I  said  — 
if  you  succeed,  you  shall  have  a  colonel's  commission.  I  don't 
care  a  dam  if  it  does  make  some  people  mad." 

It  had  been  thought  best  that  Lydia  should  not  be  told  of 
my  purposes,  so  as  I  crossed  the  long  pontoon  bridge  on  the 
night  of  the  2d  of  July,  my  heart  was  full  of  the  sweet  re- 
membrance of  loving  and  hopeful  smiles.  ...  "  For  only  a 
few  days,  Jones,"  she  had  said. 

By  my  side  was  one  of  General  Meade's  escort  —  Charliss ; 
he  was  to  take  our  horses  back.  York  rode  at  my  rear.  The 
fellow's  slender  waist  was  engirdled  with  a  belt  containing 
many  thousands  of  Confederate  money,  now  worth  perhaps 
a  thirtieth  of  its  face  value ;  he  carried  some  of  the  gold  also. 
Besides  half  the  money,  I  had  a  few  letters,  and  a  pass  which 
Colonel  Sharpe  assured  me  would  give  me  great  help  within 
the  city,  but  would  be  worthless  elsewhere ;  it  was  approved 
by  General  R.  S.  Ewell,  and  was  no  doubt  genuine,  for  Sharpe 
had  paid  a  good  sum  for  it-  to  George  Cane  —  a  deserter  from 


356        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  Fourteenth  North  Carolina,  who  had  just  come  into  our 
lines. 

North  of  the  James  we  had  but  few  troops,  and  I  had  weakly 
supposed  that  here  the  Confederates  also  had  no  great  infantry 
force.  I  expected  to  send  our  horses  back  when  our  cavalry 
outposts  should  be  reached,  and  then  take  it  afoot  through 
woods  until  we  should  be  so  far  in  the  rear  of  the  Confederate 
outposts  that  no  suspicion  could  easily  attach  to  us.  When 
near  the  city  we  would  separate,  and  each  make  his  own  way ; 
we  would  meet  by  stealth,  first  at  the  corner  of  Ninth  and 
Main,  afterward  where  we  should  devise. 

The  night  was  far  spent  when  we  reached  the  north  side. 
General  Foster  was  in  command  at  the  bridge-head;  one  of 
his  staff  spoke  of  rumours  that  the  Confederates  were  throw- 
ing heavy  forces  across  from  the  south,  but  nothing  definite 
was  known,  and  we  went  on  to  the  right  toward  the  Chicka- 
hominy. 

It  was  broad  day  when  we  dismounted  and  gave  Charliss  the 
bridles  of  our  horses.  He  turned  back ;  we  went  on.  At  first 
we  made  northwest,  going  toward  the  New  Market  road.  But 
we  soon  found  that  the  Confederates  had  a  line  of  infantry  in 
our  front.  From  a  hill,  we  could  see  the  line  in  an  open  field 
half  a  mile  away.  We  turned  to  the  north  and  tried  to  get 
around  the  flank  of  the  rebel  infantry.  York  was  absolutely 
unarmed.  I  had  the  Enfield  and  boldly  took  the  advance, 
being  dressed,  of  course,  as  a  Confederate  private,  and  ready 
here  to  play  the  straggling  forager.  York  was  following  at  a 
distance  of  a  hundred  yards  or  so ;  at  the  first  alarm  he  would 
hide  himself,  or  go  on  in  a  different  direction  to  avert  suspicion 
of  our  being  companions.  I  came  in  sight  of  the  New  Market 
road  and  turned  toward  Richmond.  At  my  left  was  a  wide, 
open  space,  a  narrow  wood  skirting  the  roadside.  In  the  road 
some  three  hundred  yards  from  me  I  saw  a  man  coming,  a  Fed- 
eral infantryman,  fully  accoutred.  His  head  was  hanging, 
and  his  body  was  bent,  as  he  trudged  along  in  the  hot  dust.  I 


A  FORLOKN  HOPE  357 

looked  behind  me.  York  was  not  in  sight.  The  Federal  con- 
tinued to  approach.  I  hid  behind  a  cluster  of  bushes ;  I  knew 
the  man  was  in  imminent  danger,  and  feared  that  I  could  not 
help  him;  the  Confederate  pickets  must  be  very  near  us.  I 
was  hoping  that  the  man  —  a  lost  and  lonely  straggler  —  would 
pass  without  seeing  me,  and  reach  safety ;  if  he  should  see  me 
and  make  an  exclamation,  the  attention  of  some  vedette  might 
be  attracted,  and  I  should  be  compelled  to  retreat  and  try  a 
more  circuitous  way. 

The  man  was  coming;  he  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
my  bushes ;  suddenly  I  saw  six  Confederates  at  my  left ;  they 
also  were  coming.  Likely  they  had  been  hidden  from  me  by 
a  swell  of  the  ground ;  now  they  were  in  plain  sight,  coming 
rapidly;  they  would  cut  off  my  line  of  retreat. 

The  man  comes  .  .  .  the  six  men  come ;  I  see  that  the  man 
is  lost  ...  I  see  that  I  am  lost  unless  I  can  prove  myself  a 
rebel.  That  the  men  see  the  Union  soldier  is  very  clear,  but 
they  do  not  see  me.  They  will  intercept  the  man  just  two  rods 
in  my  rear.  ...  I  step  into  the  road,  with  my  Enfield  presented 
at  the  blue  man  twenty  feet  away.  He  drops  his  musket  and 
raises  his  hands ;  he  is  German,  and  speaks  no  English.  Now 
the  Confederates  are  around  us. 

"  Take  charge  of  this  man.     I  must  go  on,"  I  say. 

"  All  right,"  says  one  of  them,  a  sergeant ;  "  we'll  take  him 
back.  We  were  making  for  him;  didn't  know  anybody  was 
here." 

"  Sergeant,  I  want  a  receipt,"  said  I. 

"  Got  any  paper  ?     I've  got  a  pencil." 

"No." 

One  of  the  men  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket  diary  and  handed 
it  to  the  sergeant. 

The  sergeant  wrote  a  receipt  to  B.  Jones  of  the  First  South 
Carolina  for  one  prisoner.  The  signature  was  Madison  F. 
Hawthorne,  Serg't,  Company  F,  12th  S.  C.  V. 

I  marched  up  the  road.     The  squad  with  the  prisoner  lin- 


368        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

gered  near  the  road.  No  doubt  they  were  "going  through 
him,"  which  means  that  they  were  taking  all  the  United 
States  property  on  his  person,  if  not  indeed  his  individual 
effects. 

York  was  now  cut  off.  Enemies  were  between  us.  I  did 
not  doubt  that  he  had  seen  the  recent  performance,  and  I 
feared  that  he  would  be  badly  puzzled  as  to  my  conduct.  He 
was  a  sharp  fellow,  was  York ;  but  my  action  in  capturing  a 
Federal  would  be  hard  for  him  to  see  through ;  yet  I  would 
hope  to  find  him  in  Elchmond.  He  could  get  there. 

Now  at  the  left  of  the  road  I  saw  a  skirmish-line  in  the  edge 
of  some  timber.  I  saw  but  few  men,  really,  but  I  knew  that 
there  was  a  skirmish-line.  I  could  see  parts  of  it  on  the  left 
of  the  road,  and  on  the  right  also ;  but  on  my  right  the  line 
seemed  to  curve  back  toward  the  west.  I  went  to  the  right. 
In  a  few  minutes  I  heard  a  shot,  and  another,  and  another,  all 
seeming  to  come  from  one  spot.  Before  me,  at  a  distance  of 
say  forty  or  fifty  rods,  was  a  dwelling-house ;  from  the  windows 
of  the  upper  story  shots  were  being  fired.  I  went  up  to  the 
house  and  entered. 

Do  you  know  why  I  went  into  that  house?  If  its  occupants 
should  prove  to  be  Federals,  I  could  make  a  fresh  start;  if 
they  were  Confederates,  I  would  be  a  big  rebel  too  —  that  was 
the  whole  of  it. 

The  occupants  of  the  house  were  Confederates  —  five;  I 
made  the  sixth.  We  were  Thomson,  Norton,  Crossland,  Moore, 
Watson,  Jones.  I  knew  they  were  McGowan's  sharp-shooters 
because  I  knew  West  Norton,  and  I  knew  Crossland,  for  I  had 
served  in  the  Gettysburg  campaign  with  these  men.  The  other 
men  whose  names  I  have  just  called  I  did  not  know,  but  soon 
became  acquainted  with  them. 

"  Hello,  West ! "  says  I. 

"  Why,  who  are  you  ?  "  says  he. 

"Hello,  Sergeant!"  says  Sam  Crossland  to  me,  and  holds 
out  his  hand.  "  Glad  to  see  you ;  we've  been  wonderin'  whether 


A  FORLORN  HOPE  359 

we  ought  to  send  back  to  the  battalion  for  help,  but  I  reckon 
we've  got  enough." 

Norton  now  recognized  me ;  I  had  slept  with  him  many  a 
night.  "  But  you're  not  in  the  battalion  this  year,"  says  he. 

"  No,  not  this  year,"  I  said ;  "  what  you  got  on  hand  here, 
boys  ?  " 

From  the  upper  windows  these  marksmen  had  command  of  a 
good  many  rifle-pits  of  the  Federal  skirmish-line.  Twenty-five 
or  thirty  pits  were  in  full  view,  three  hundred  yards,  in  a 
hollow.  Bullets  came  tapping,  tapping  on  the  walls  of  the 
house  and  on  the  chimneys ;  occasionally  one  entered.  Thom- 
son was  bleeding  from  a  slight  wound  on  his  hip ;  the  ball  had 
crushed  a  hole  in  his  canteen  first. 

My  position  was  delicate.  I  could  not  hope  to  feign. 
Amongst  so  few,  it  would  be  at  once  known  that  my  Enfield 
was  worthless.  Suddenly  I  said :  — 

"Thomson,  rest  awhile  and  lend  me  your  gun." 

"  What  for,  Sergeant  ?  " 

"  Mine  won't  shoot.  I'd  throw  it  away,  but  it's  too  good  to 
lose.  It's  choked." 

"  Wait  till  I  fire  once  more,"  says  Thomson. 

There  were  but  two  windows  overlooking  the  Yankees.  The 
men  would  fire  alternately  and  step  back  into  the  room  to  load. 
Rap,  rap,  came  the  Federal  bullets. 

Thomson  fired  and  handed  me  his  gun.  My  cartridge-box 
was  full  —  Springfield  cartridges,  you  know,  but  they  fit  an 
Enfield  well  enough.  I  loaded.  Thomson  took  my  gun  and 
went  downstairs.  I  fired  at  the  ground  fifty  yards  from  the 
house,  stepped  back,  and  began  to  reload. 

All  at  once  a  most  terrific  shock  was  felt :  bricks  flew  into 
the  room ;  a  hole  as  big  as  your  head  was  in  the  chimney ;  the 
room  was  full  of  dust  and  litter ;  a  big  hole  was  in  the  wall  of 
the  room  opposite  the  chimney. 

Now  at  each  window  were  two  men,  trying  to  get  a  shot  at  the 
artillery ;  the  men  were  loading  and  firing  as  fast  as  possible. 


360       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  Look  out !  Run  down ! "  shouted  Watson  and  Crossland 
at  once,  and  there  was  a  stampede  for  the  stairway.  We  were 
running  for  the  cellar.  The  cannon  —  there  was  but  a  section 
of  a  battery — pounded  away,  knocking  holes  in  the  upper 
story.  We  held  our  ground  in  the  cellar. 

"  My  cartridges  are  almost  out,"  said  Norton. 

"  Sergeant  Jones  has  got  a  plenty  for  a  while  yet,"  said 
Thomson. 

Again  I  was  in  trouble.     I  must  not  let  a  cartridge  go. 

"  Yes,  and  Sergeant  Jones  is  going  to  use  his  own  car- 
tridges," said  I.  "You  fellows  had  your  fun  before  I  got 
here  ;  now  it's  my  turn." 

Crossland  and  Norton  drew  straws  to  see  which  should  go 
back  to  the  line  —  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  —  to  get  cartridges. 
The  lot  fell  to  Crossland. 

"  Sergeant,  lend  me  a  few,"  said  Norton ;  "  when  Crossland 
gets  here,  I'll  pay  you  back." 

I  ran  upstairs,  and  fired  through  the  hole  that  the  shell 
had  made  in  the  chimney,  and  continued  to  load  and  fire 
rapidly.  Watson  came  up  also,  and  fired  his  last  two  shots. 
Now  we  could  see  the  gunners  aim,  and  we  ran  down  into  the 
cellar  again.  There  came  two  tremendous  blows  on  the 
house.  Again  I  ran  up  and  fired,  and  when  I  again  descended 
for  protection  against  the  shells,  Crossland  had  returned. 

Now,  with  a  fresh  supply  of  ammunition,  these  almost  reck- 
less fellows  kept  the  stairs  hot  up  and  hot  down.  Their  shots 
were  aimed  at  the  artillery  on  a  hill,  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
behind  the  skirmishers.  Bullets  rained  on  the  house ;  shells 
passed  entirely  through  it.  But  for  the  cellar  the  place  must 
have  been  abandoned. 

Thomson  demanded  his  gun,  and  I  gave  it  to  him  reluctantly. 
"  I'm  a  better  shot  than  you  are,"  said  I. 

"I'll  shoot  twice  and  let  you  have  it  back,"  said  he.  "Your 
dam'd  old  thing's  full  o'  dirt,  or  something  else.  Ramrod  sticks 
out  a  foot.  I  primed  it  with  powder,  but  it's  all  plugged  up." 


A  FORLORN  HOPE  361 

I  remained  in  the  cellar.  This  contest  was  very  absurd. 
Here  were  five  Confederates  fighting  some  two  hundred  infan- 
try and  two  cannon.  True,  the  Confederates  had  a  great 
advantage  in  position,  but  that  was  only  because  their  enemies 
allowed  it ;  a  rush  of  twenty  men  up  to  the  house,  and  these 
sharp-shooters  would  be  taken.  I  could  hear  the  balls  hitting 
shingles  and  weatherboarding ;  the  artillery  fire  had  ceased,  at 
least  for  a  time. 

Thomson  came  down  and  again  we  exchanged  guns. 

"  They're  getting  ready  to  leave,"  said  he. 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  The  Yankees." 

When  I  got  above  stairs  the  men  were  busy,  loading  and 
firing.  Moore  shouted :  "  Everybody  hold  his  load.  They're 
going  to  run;  then  give  it  to  'em." 

The  artillery  people  on  the  hill  were  stirring  about.  The 
sharp-shooters  were  reserving  their  fire ;  I  made  no  objec- 
tion. 

The  artillery  people  leaped  on  their  horses  and  lashed  them 
madly ;  at  once  they  were  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  gallop- 
ing for  the  woods  beyond.  Four  shots  went  at  them,  and  one 
into  the  ground. 

" Load!    Load !    Load !    Load !    Load ! "  everybody  shouted. 

And  now  about  two  hundred  skirmishers  rose  in  their  pits, 
levelled  their  guns,  and  sent  a  shower  of  balls  against  the 
house,  and  then  —  would  you  believe  it?  —  they  turned  and 
skedaddled  up  the  hill  like  fiddlers  on  the  seashore.  We  got 
two  shots  apiece.  Thomson  had  come  up  to  see  the  fun,  and 
begged  earnestly  for  the  last  shot,  but  I  hardened  my  heart 
against  him. 

We  were  downstairs  in  a  jiffy,  and,  led  by  Moore,  were 
making  for  the  deserted  pits.  These  hungry  rebels  wanted 
booty,  and  they  got  it.  Knapsacks,  blankets,  haversacks,  fell 
into  their  hands  ;  one  Union  man  was  taken.  He  told  us  that 
the  position  being  untenable,  a  sergeant  of  the  artillery  was 


362       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

sent  back  to  General  Foster  with  the  report  that  the  rebel 
sharp-shooters  were  picking  off  skirmishers  and  gunners ;  the 
general  had  cursed  the  sergeant,  and  ordered  him  to  return 
and  batter  down  the  house.  The  sergeant  had  obeyed,  but 
just  as  he  reached  his  place  a  bullet  had  taken  off  part  of  his 
nose,  and  in  this  deplorable  plight  he  was  sent  again  to  the 
general,  who  then  yielded,  and  ordered  the  whole  angle  of 
the  skirmish-line  to  fall  back  nearly  a  mile.  For  my  part,  I 
did  not  believe  a  word  the  prisoner  said. 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  the  Confederate  skirmish-line ; 
we  entered  it  above  McGowan's  brigade ;  in  less  than  a  minute 
I  had  deserted  my  daring  comrades  and  was  making  tracks 
straight  to  the  rear  —  straight  toward  Richmond. 

Where  was  York  ? 


XXXIII 

FOBTINBKAS 

"And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts.  "  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

AT  sunrise  I  was  halted  by  the  guard  at  the  Richmond  for- 
tifications; presenting  George  Cane's  pass,  approved  by  Gen- 
eral Ewell,  I  was  allowed  to  enter.  The  night  had  been  spent 
in  making  the  march  to  the  city,  a  straight  march  of  only 
about  twelve  miles,  but  devious  and  slow  from  the  necessity 
for  avoiding  bodies  of  Confederates  who  might  have  stopped 
me. 

In  the  outskirts  of  Richmond  I  found  a  miserable  little 
hotel,  where  I  got  breakfast  and  a  bed  for  twenty  dollars ; 
it  was  now  about  ten  o'clock,  and  I  preferred  going  into  the 
city  by  night. 

At  dusk  I  left  my  bed  and  started  into  the  city,  following 
Franklin  Street,  as  I  was  told.  Now  I  saw  many  soldiers, 
single  and  in  groups,  some  of  them  armed,  going  this  way  and 
that  way.  I  went  past  the  Capitol.  Inside  the  grounds,  at 
the  corner  of  Bank  Street  and  Ninth,  was  a  small  brick  build- 
ing with  a  belfry ;  the  bell  was  struck  nine  times  as  I  passed ; 
afterward  I  learned  that  the  building  was  a  guard-house,  and 
that  the  bell  was  struck  for  every  hour  and  half-hour,  day  and 
night. 

I  went  on  as  far  as  Seventh  Street;  then  I  turned  to  the 
right,  and  went  nearly  two  streets  beyond  Broad.  A  dark 
alley  was  before  me,  and  I  turned  into  it,  but  only  for  a  few 
feet ;  almost  at  the  very  entrance  to  the  alley  was  the  bottom 
of  a  flight  of  stairs;  I  counted  twenty  steps,  and  reached  a 

363 


364        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

landing,  protected  by  a  railing,  outside  of  which  was  darkness, 
the  landing  being  directly  over  the  alley.  At  my  left  was  a 
closed  door.  I  bent  until  my  eyes  were  on  a  level  with  the 
keyhole ;  there  was  no  light  within.  I  knocked  and  waited, 
and  again  repeated  my  knock,  louder  this  time.  I  knocked 
again ;  there  was  never  an  answer. 

When  I  reached  the  street,  I  saw,  beyond  the  alley,  a  light 
on  the  sidewalk ;  the  light  came  from  a  window.  I  left  my 
gun  leaning  against  the  wall  in  the  dark  alley  and  approached 
the  light ;  I  passed  it  slowly,  looking  at  the  window.  In  the 
room  I  could  see  nothing.  The  window-panes  were  soiled; 
whatever  was  in  the  room  could  not  be  discerned  at  a  rapid 
glance,  and  I  feared  to  pause  and  look ;  I  passed  on ;  the  place 
seemed  a  storeroom. 

In  a  moment  I  met  a  group  of  men  —  three.  I  must  keep 
on.  I  went  around  the  block ;  I  would  come  through  the  alley 
from  the  other  end,  but  on  Sixth  Street  I  found  no  alley  at  all, 
and  knew  now  that  there  was  no  thoroughfare,  but  a  blind  alley 
beginning  at  Seventh  Street.  I  kept  on  until  I  was  back  at 
the  stairs;  I  climbed  them  again;  perhaps  Dr.  Almonte  had 
been  on  a  professional  visit;  perhaps  he  had  now  returned. 
Again  I  bent  to  the  keyhole ;  there  was  no  light.  I  knocked 
softly ;  I  feared  that  persons  passing,  and  persons  in  the  store- 
room beyond  the  alley,  would  observe  me.  I  stooped  low,  and 
at  last  sat  down  on  the  landing,  lest  my  form  should  be  seen 
against  the  sky.  Great  fear  was  coming  upon  me  —  fear  that 
I  should  be  unable  to  find  any  help  in  Richmond.  To  doubt 
York  was  absurd ;  yet  did  I  not  know  that  the  boy  could  be 
turned  away  from  his  purpose  by  a  thousand  causes  small 
and  great  ?  Dr.  Almonte  was  not  at  home  —  thus  much  was 
clear;  what  of  the  others,  those  to  whom  I  had  letters  from 
the  provost-marshal  ? 

Again  I  came  down  the  stairs.  I  crossed  the  alley  and 
picked  up  my  gun.  Then  I  went  farther  into  the  alley ;  I  had 
a  wish  that  this  place  of  Dr.  Almonte's  —  vacated  or  occupied 


FORTINBRAS  365 

—  should  be  my  quarters,  and  I  wanted  to  know  something 
of  surroundings.  At  the  rear  of  the  storeroom,  beyond  the 
alley,  was  a  small  side  gate  that  gave  entrance  into  a  back 
yard.  I  passed  it,  and  almost  at  once  found  my  way  stopped 
by  a  long,  low  outhouse  extending  from  one  side  of  the  alley  to 
the  other  and  on  toward  the  left,  that  is  to  say,  into  the  dark 
premises  of  the  Almonte  place.  This  outhouse  had  neither 
window  nor  door,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  on  this  side;  it  was 
simply  a  wall,  beyond  which  I  could  not  go.  I  groped  along 
the  Almonte  side,  returning.  There  was  a  tall  wooden  fence 
of  upright  boards ;  in  the  middle,  about  halfway  between  the 
outhouse  and  the  dwelling,  was  a  large  double  gate  of  such 
construction  that  it  seemed  a  part  of  the  fence ;  yet  by  feeling 
I  could  make  out  where  the  great  hinges  were,  and  where  an 
iron  chain  served  to  keep  the  two  wings  closed  —  doubtless 
there  was  a  padlock  inside.  I  crossed  the  alley  again,  and 
entered  the  small  gate  opposite,  and  was  now  at  the  rear  of 
the  storeroom.  In  the  yard  it  was  very  dark.  The  house  had 
but  one  story ;  its  eaves  were  parallel  with  the  alley,  its  gable 
presented  to  the  street;  on  the  alley  there  was  no  opening. 
I  moved  slowly  along  the  rear  of  the  shop,  not  more  than  thirty 
feet.  A  high  wall  was  met.  I  went  along  the  wall ;  there  was 
no  gate  anywhere  in  it.  And  now  I  went  to  Dr.  Almonte's 
great  gate ;  I  placed  one  foot  on  the  lower  hinge,  and  caught 
the  upper  hinge  with  my  right  hand,  and  raised  myself  until  I 
could  just  see  over  the  fence ;  I  looked  and  listened  for  a  min- 
ute; then,  convinced  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear  in  the 
yard,  I  stepped  back  again,  and  hung  my  rifle,  inverted,  to  the 
top  of  the  fence  by  the  trigger-guard;  a  minute  more  and  I 
stood  in  the  yard.  The  space  was  very  small ;  the  long  out- 
house which  blocked  the  alley  extended  entirely  across  the 
yard.  From  the  rear  of  the  dwelling  to  the  side  of  the  out- 
house there  was  the  space  of  about  forty  feet. 

I  approached  the  rear  of  the  dwelling;  a  short  flight  of 
rickety  stairs  led  up  to  its  back  door.     On  either  side  of  the 


366       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

door  was  a  closed  window,  and  by  using  my  rifle  from  the  top 
of  the  stairs  I  could  tell  that  across  each  window  ran  an  iron 
bar  diagonally  from  top  to  bottom.  I  must  get  in  at  the  door. 

The  lock  proved  secure.  I  had  hoped  that  these  peculiar 
premises  could  be  easily  invaded;  disappointed,  I  began  to 
contrive  a  plan  for  forcible  entrance,  for  I  knew  that  it  would 
be  dangerous  to  wander  about  in  Richmond ;  if  Dr.  Almonte 
should  return  and  find  me  in  possession,  I  hoped  that  my 
papers  would  justify  me.  It  would  have  been  easy,  no  doubt, 
to  force  open  the  door;  one  blow  with  the  butt  of  my  rifle 
would  suffice,  but  I  must  make  no  noise ;  I  must  look  about 
for  some  instrument.  I  went  to  the  door  of  the  long  build- 
ing. What  was  in  this  outhouse  ?  What  was  its  purpose  ? 
I  became  very  curious.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  would  be 
better  to  make  my  quarters  here.  I  tried  the  lock ;  the  door 
opened. 

One  long  room  was  before  me.  I  could  see  no  window  any- 
where, yet  a  faint  light  was  in  the  room,  even  when  the  door 
was  shut,  and  in  a  moment  I  knew  that  there  was  a  skylight. 
I  struck  a  match,  and  dimly  saw  shelves  on  both  walls  and  a 
long,  heavy  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  much  litter  on 
the  floor.  The  room  smelt  horribly  of  chemicals.  I  went  out 
for  fresh  air. 

But  I  felt  it  necessary  to  go  back ;  I  must  get  an  instrument. 
This  room  was  the  doctor's  workshop ;  there  must  be  in  it  a 
chisel,  or  some  tool  which  would  serve  me.  I  did  not  light 
another  match ;  I  was  ignorant  of  chemistry,  and  feared  an 
explosion ;  I  might  break  bottles  and  mix  things  ;  so  I  groped 
about  in  the  darkness  very  slowly  and  with  the  greatest  care, 
until  after  feeling  on  many  shelves  my  hand  came  in  contact 
with  a  stout  wire.  At  once  I  went  out  into  the  yard;  put- 
ting the  wire  into  the  muzzle  of  my  rifle,  I  bent  half  an  inch 
at  a  right  angle.  Again  I  went  up  the  rickety  steps.  I  put 
my  wire  in  the  keyhole  and  turned,  first  in  one  direction, 
then  in  the  other.  The  prong  of  the  wire  seemed  too  short ; 


FORTINBRAS  367 

I  straightened  it,  and  then  made  it  longer ;  at  the  first  turn  the 
bolt  slipped  back  ;  I  opened  the  door,  entered,  and  shut  myself 
in.  At  once  I  was  startled  by  a  sound. 

I  do  not  know  what  sound  is.  I  have  read  somewhere  re- 
cently that  it  is  vibration,  or  the  sensation  produced  on  the  ear 
by  vibration  in  the  air ;  and  it  is  true  of  the  sensation  I  had 
experienced,  that  to  say  I  was  startled  by  a  sound  is  not  so 
accurate  as  to  say  that  I  felt  the  sound  rather  than  heard  it. 
It  was  a  peculiar  sound,  so  low  that  the  next  instant  I  could 
not  have  sworn  that  I  had  heard  aright ;  I  thought  that  there 
had  come  to  me  a  voice,  asking  feebly,  "  Who  is  there  ?  "  The 
voice  seemed  to  be  in  the  air  —  possibly  the  words  had  been 
uttered  by  some  one  in  a  room  overhead.  I  was  silent.  I 
knew  not  whether  to  reply  or  to  retreat.  I  stepped  back  and 
opened  the  door. 

At  the  very  moment  when  the  door  opened,  the  voice  was 
heard  again  —  the  same  words. 

"  A  friend,"  I  replied  ;  "  is  that  Doctor  Almonte  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

I  stood  a  moment  undecided.  Then  I  heard  the  voice  say, 
"  Come  up." 

I  lighted  a  match  and  saw  a  flight  of  stairs,  which  I  began 
to  climb ;  the  light  went  out  and  left  me  in  greater  darkness. 

"  This  way,"  said  the  voice. 

Feeling  my  way,  I  turned  to  the  left  and  soon  knew  that  I 
was  in  a  bedroom ;  there  were  two  open  windows ;  I  could  see 
a  bed. 

The  voice,  now  distinct,  said,  "There  is  a  candle  on  the 
chair." 

I  approached  and  lighted  the  candle. 

"  An  armed  man,"  said  the  voice. 

On  the  bed  I  now  saw  a  man  —  a  yellowish  old  man  with  a 
long  gray  beard.  A  sheet  covered  him. 

"  Are  you  Doctor  Almonte  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  did  not  reply,  though  he  was  looking  at  me  with  atten- 


368        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

tion.  He  drew  a  hand  from  under  the  sheet.  He  said, "  Fetch 
the  slate." 

I  looked  about  and  saw  a  slate  on  the  table  near  the  bedside. 
To  the  slate  a  pencil  was  attached.  I  offered  the  slate  to  the 
old  man.  He  shook  his  head,  saying :  "  No,  you  write.  I  am 
deaf." 

I  did  not  write.  I  offered  him  a  letter  and  held  the  candle 
near  him.  He  looked  at  the  superscription,  and  said :  "  It  is 
for  me ;  yes.  Open  it." 

When  he  had  read  it,  he  said,  "Sit  near  me  and  write 
replies." 

"  In  what  am  I  to  serve  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Dr.  K.  does  not  tell  you  ?  "  I  wrote. 

"  No ;  he  simply  places  you  under  my  care  in  Richmond,  and 
leaves  the  rest  to  me." 

"  I  am  sent  here  to  try  to  capture  a  man  who  is  dangerous  to 
republics  —  a  friend  of  monarchy,  a  foreign  political  emissary." 

"  Of  course,  no  bloodshed  is  meant  ?  " 

"No." 

"  I  will  help  you.     How  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

"  By  the  back  way,  forcibly.     I  knocked  many  times  first." 

"  Write  down  all  I  need  to  know." 

When  Dr.  Almonte  had  been  fully  made  aware  of  my 
intentions,  he  said  :  "  You  must  begin  work  at  once.  Are  you 
very  tired  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Then  I  will  send  a  message  by  you." 

He  wrote  a  note  to  John  Carpenter,  asking  him  to  come 
immediately. 

"  You  will  find  him,"  said  he,  "  on  Marshall  Street,  between 
Second  and  Third,  on  the  right-hand  side.  It  is  not  far  ;  only 
a  few  blocks ;  he  lives  over  a  shoemaker's  shop.  I  suppose  he 
has  retired,  and  you  will  have  to  wake  him." 

In  half  an  hour  I  had  returned  to  the  doctor,  accompanied  by 
Carpenter.  As  soon  as  I  saw  this  man  by  candle-light,  I  knew 


FORTINBRAS  369 

that  no  broad  English  name  had  been  his  originally.  He  was 
a  small  man,  of  about  forty,  of  very  dark  complexion,  keen 
black  eyes,  and  an  air  of  intelligence.  His  replies  to  the  doc- 
tor's questions  were  made  mostly  by  signs.  I  saw  at  once 
that  the  two  were  very  intimate. 

"  Carpenter,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  want  to  know  the  late 
arrivals  at  the  hotels." 

Carpenter  nodded. 

"  Go  to  the  American  Hotel,  the  Exchange,  the  St.  Charles, 
the  Spotswood,  the  Broad  Street,  and  the  Powhatan  hotels, 
and  bring  me  the  names  of  all  who  registered  in  them  on  the 
twenty-fifth  and  twenty-sixth  of  last  month.  When  you  find 
the  name  of  R.  S.  Owen  or  of  R.  S.  Scranton,  you  need  not  go 
farther.  Merely  bring  me  the  names  that  follow  and  precede 
his  upon  the  day  of  his  arrival." 

Carpenter  again  nodded,  and  made  some  signs  in  the  air  with 
his  fingers  that  I  did  not  understand. 

"  Report  to-morrow  morning,"  said  the  doctor.  "  It  may 
take  you  a  long  time  to  do  the  work." 

Carpenter  started. 

"From  what  you  tell  me,"  said  Dr.  Almonte,  "I  do  not 
suppose  that  your  man  has  yet  appeared  in  a  public  place ; 
he  is  too  unwell.  I  shall  try  to  gain  admittance  to  him  —  but 
please  call  Carpenter  back  for  a  moment." 

I  caught  the  man  before  he  had  got  downstairs,  and  brought 
him  back. 

"  I  want  you  to  do  another  thing  for  me,  Carpenter.  When 
you  find  Owen's  name,  you  will  likely  find  the  name  of  some 
foreigner.  It  may  be  Scherzer;  it  may  be  Espinoff ;  it  may 
be  some  other  foreign  name,  but  you  will  likely  find  the  name 
written  in  the  same  hand  that  writes  the  signature  of  Owen  or 
Scranton.  When  you  find  two  names,  one  of  them  Owen  or 
Scranton,  and  another  name,  both  written  in  the  same  hand, 
find  out  if  either  of  the  two  men  is  sick,  and,  if  so,  what  phy- 
sician attends  him." 
li 


370       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Carpenter  nodded  again  and  took  his  leave. 

Dr.  Almonte  had  not  risen ;  I  asked  if  he  was  ill. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  he ;  "  there  is  nothing  the  matter  with  me 
whatever  except  that  1  am  deaf.  By  the  bye,  have  you  had 
your  supper  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  not  supper  exactly,  but  I  have  satisfied  my 
hunger." 

"To-morrow,"  said  he,  "we  will  make  some  arrangements 
for  you.  To-night  I  am  afraid  that  a  cot  is  all  I  can  offer.  I 
retire  early,  and  I  awake  early.  I  shall  be  up  before  you  are, 
I  think.  You  may  retire  now,  if  you  wish." 

On  the  next  morning  when  I  awoke  I  found  the  doctor's 
breakfast  ready.  It  was  a  very  frugal  meal.  He  kept  no 
servant,  and  there  was  no  cooking  done  in  the  house.  He  told 
me  afterward  that  he  was  accustomed  to  take  his  meals  away 
from  home. 

About  eight  o'clock  Carpenter  came  in,  and  handed  the 
doctor  a  sheet  of  paper,  which  was  in  turn  handed  to  me.  On 
the  paper  was :  Exchange,  June  26,  R.  S.  Owen,  C.  S.  A.  14 ; 
H.  Scheultz,  14. 

"Did  you  ascertain  if  either  of  them  is  ill?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

Carpenter  nodded  assent,  and  put  his  finger  on  the  name 
Scheultz. 

"  What  physician  attends  him  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

Carpenter  wrote  "  Dr.  Ellis." 

"I  shall  see  him,"  said  Dr.  Almonte. 

I  asked  the  doctor  to  let  me  have  a  razor;  he  smiled,  saying, 
"  I  have  not  used  one  in  thirty  years." 

On  Main  Street  I  found  a  hardware  store,  in  which  were 
two  razors,  one  at  sixty,  the  other  at  seventy-five  dollars.  I 
shaved  my  chin  only,  and  arranged  a  bandage  around  my  head, 
as  if  I  were  wounded.  To  have  had  an  arm  in  a  sling  would 
have  been  as  good  a  passport  for  the  streets  of  Richmond ;  I 
used  the  bandage  for  the  additional  purpose  of  disguise. 


FORTESTBRAS  371 

At  nine  o'clock  I  turned  the  corner  of  Ninth  and  Main 
streets.  The  sidewalk  was  very  crowded.  I  had  hoped  to 
meet  York  here,  and  felt  greatly  disappointed  in  not  seeing 
him.  I  went  on  to  Seventh  Street,  and  then  back  toward  the 
doctor's.  I  had  passed  the  Richmond  and  Fredericksburg 
depot  and  was  crossing  Marshall  Street,  when  I  heard  a  foot- 
fall behind  me,  and  a  man  passed  me  saying :  — 

"Don't  tuhn  yo'  head,  Misteh  Behwick,  but  tell  me  wheah 
to  meet  you  again.  I  saw  you  down  yondeh  at  the  cawneh, 
but  theah  weh  so  many  people  I  thought  I  had  betteh  follow 
you." 

"  Come  just  at  dark,  York,  to  the  alley  on  Seventh  Street, 
between  Marshall  and  Clay." 

Dr.  Almonte  was  not  at  home  when  I  reached  the  house, 
and  I  now  had  time  to  look  about  me.  There  were  but  four 
rooms.  The  front,  or  rather  side,  entrance  led  to  a  narrow 
passage  which  cut  the  story  in  halves  and  connected  with 
another  passage  which  ran  along  three  rooms  and  half  of  the 
fourth;  midway  of  the  back  room,  this  passage  became  the 
stairway  leading  up  from  the  back  door.  The  doctor's  sleep- 
ing room  was  the  fourth;  mine,  temporarily,  was  the  third. 
The  rooms  were  all  of  a  size,  about  fourteen  by  sixteen  feet ; 
my  room  had  but  one  window;  the  doctor's  being  a  corner 
room,  had  two ;  in  it  we  had  eaten  breakfast.  The  furniture 
was  simple  and  scant.  There  was  not  a  carpet,  not  a  fireplace, 
except  a  small  stove  in  the  rear  room.  As  may  be  easily  sup- 
posed, the  house  was  not  well  kept.  Dust  was  everywhere; 
cobwebs  were  in  the  corners  of  the  ceiling,  and  the  window- 
panes  looked  as  though  they  had  not  been  washed  since  the 
war  began.  There  were  no  books  except  some  old  English 
and  Spanish  pamphlets  on  medical  subjects.  Any  one  com- 
ing into  these  apartments  might  readily  suppose  that  the  house 
was  shut  up,  and  the  occupants  gone  for  a  long  visit. 

The  house  explored,  I  went  into  the  yard  in  the  rear,  and 
again  entered  the  doctor's  workshop.  I  saw  little  more  than 


372        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

I  had  seen  in  the  night ;  here  also  I  found  the  lack  of  care ; 
very  probably  Dr.  Almonte  had  not  entered  this  building  in 
months.  There  was  but  one  door.  The  skylight  was  badly 
in  need  of  repair ;  dust  covered  the  shelves  and  the  tables,  and 
the  floor  was  so  thick  with  it  that  I  could  distinctly  see  my 
footprints  —  but  no  other's.  I  went  back  to  my  room  and 
waited.  Time  was  heavy  on  my  hands.  I  cleaned  a  spot  in 
a  window-pane  and  looked  across  the  alley.  Nothing  could 
be  seen  except  the  wall  and  roof  of  the  windowless  store-room. 
That  building  had  aroused  my  curiosity  before.  I  would  ask 
the  doctor  what  it  was  used  for ;  perhaps  it  could  serve  my 
purposes. 

It  was  after  two  o'clock  when  I  heard  footsteps  on  the  stairs. 
My  host  reported  that  he  had  invited  Dr.  Ellis  to  a  consulta- 
tion, and  had  learned  from  him  that  a  mysterious  foreigner 
was  under  his  treatment  at  the  Exchange  Hotel  —  a  severe 
wound  of  the  scalp,  caused  by  a  fall.  The  gentleman  would 
be  confined  to  his  room  for  a  week  at  least. 

"We  have  time  enough  to  make  every  preparation,"  said 
Dr.  Almonte;  "what  is  your  plan?" 

"  I  must  try  to  take  Scherzer  before  he  goes  to  the  Capitol. 
Is  it  possible  to  take  him  in  his  room  ?  " 

"  Possible,  but  not  easy.  How  can  you  prevent  him  from 
communicating  with  the  authorities  in  writing  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  he  will  do  that.  He  will  not  part  with  his 
credentials.  He  no  doubt  expects  to  make  an  official  visit  to 
Mr.  Benjamin.1  He  will  perhaps  first  notify  the  Secretary  of 
his  arrival,  but  I  think  he  will  not  do  that  before  he  recovers. 
He  will  wish  to  conceal  the  curious  fact  of  his  wound." 

"  I  doubt  his  having  regular  credentials." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"Because  they  would  imply  previous  recognition  of  the 
Confederacy.  I  think  you  will  find  that  he  has  nothing  but 

1  The  Confederate  Secretary  of  State.    [ED.] 


FOBTINBKAS  373 

letters  from  important  persons  —  to  somebody  who  will  intro- 
duce him  to  the  Secretary.  His  hoped-for  arrangements  are 
first  to  be  made." 

"  I  trust  you  are  right,  Doctor." 

"It  would  be  very  difficult  to  take  the  man  while  his 
companion  is  with  him;  they  have  the  same  room  —  room 
fourteen." 

"  Did  you  learn  how  Owen  is  ?  " 

"  I  infer  that  he  is  well.  Doctor  Ellis  said  nothing  about 
him  at  all,  except  that  he  was  present  and  did  most  of  the 
talking.  Both  of  them  take  their  meals  in  their  room.  They 
are  having  clothing  made  by  a  tailor,  who  came  to  their  room 
for  orders." 

"  What  sort  of  clothing  ?  " 

"Civilian's  for  Scherzer;  a  Confederate  captain's  uniform 
for  the  other  man." 

"  If  it  were  certain  that  Scherzer  would  go  alone  and  afoot 
to  the  Capitol,  we  could  get  him.  I  would  rent  some  house 
and  get  him  into  it  by  some  means." 

"But  you  cannot  expect  him  to  make  even  a  semi-official 
visit  in  that  way.  He  may  go  alone,  but  he  will  go  in  a 
carriage." 

I  wrote  five  words  on  the  slate,  showed  them  to  the  doctor, 
and  erased  them  at  once. 

"That  will  do  exceedingly  well,"  he  exclaimed.  "A  very 
happy  thought,  sir." 

Dr.  Almonte  was  surprised  to  learn  that  the  house  beyond 
the  alley  was  occupied.  He  told  Carpenter  to  find  out  what 
it  was  used  for,  and  try  to  get  possession.  My  new  friend's 
practice  kept  him  away  from  home  much  of  the  time.  After 
that  first  breakfast  my  meals  were  procured  from  bakers'  and 
grocers'  shops ;  I  feared  restaurants  and  hotels. 

Our  plans  were  being  perfected.  A  great  amount  of  money 
was  spent.  Seventy-five  thousand  dollars  went  for  a  single 
purpose.  Colonel  Sharpe's  letters  —  one  of  them,  at  least  — 


374       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTEESIGN 

had  secured  powerful  help.     We  had  influential  men  at  work, 
and  more  than  one  house  rented. 

On  the  7th  Carpenter  showed  me  an  advertisement  in  one 
of  the  morning  papers :  — 

LOST!    LIBERAL  REWARD! 

A  package  of  papers  marked  R.  S.  O.  was  lost  near  Bottom's 
Bridge  on  or  about  the  16th  ultimo.  $1000  will  be  paid  for  its 
delivery  to  the  undersigned,  and  no  questions  asked. 

R.  S.  OWEN,  Exchange  Hotel. 

On  the  night  of  the  7th  Carpenter  led  me  into  the  store- 
room. It  was  but  one  long  apartment;  no  egress  anywhere 
except  front  and  rear  doors. 

"  Look  about  you,"  he  said,  "  and  see  if  you  find  anything 
peculiar." 

I  saw  where  he  was  looking,  and  examined  the  wall,  but 
everything  was  uniform  and  natural. 

He  held  the  candle  high  and  low,  but  I  saw  nothing. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  this  whole  section  comes  out ;  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  go  out  to  open  it." 

He  was  gone  but  a  few  moments  when  I  saw  about  six  feet 
of  the  wall  begin  to  move ;  it  opened  until  there  was  a  space 
sufficient  to  allow  a  man  to  pass.  Outside  there  was  a  narrow 
space  between  the  store-room  and  another  almost  like  it. 
Carpenter  led  me  out  into  a  back  yard  and  showed  me  a  high 
wall  at  the  left.  The  other  side  of  this  wall  I  had  run  against 
in  the  explorations  of  my  first  night ;  the  wall  had  no  gate. 
Carpenter  opened  a  door  in  the  rear  of  this  second  building 
and  showed  me  a  small  bedroom  with  one  window ;  its  blinds 
were  closed  —  nailed  up,  he  said. 

"  And  you  have  rented  this  also  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  thought  it  would  be  safer ;  and  I've  cut  a  door  in 
the  end  of  the  Doctor's  workshop ;  we  can  get  to  him  without 
going  into  the  alley." 


FORTINBBAS  375 

On  the  evening  of  the  8th  of  July  we  held  a  council.  Dr. 
Almonte  had  seen  Ellis  again,  who  had  paid  his  last  visit 
to  Scheultz.  Carpenter  was  told  to  warn  our  people  that  great 
vigilance  was  needed. 

The  doctor  went  out.  It  was  about  eight  o'clock.  I  had 
been  in  the  house  all  the  afternoon,  and  needed  air  and  change. 
I  walked  about  the  streets  awhile.  Passing  the  corner  of  Broad 
and  Seventh,  I  saw  that  the  theatre  was  lighted.  There  was  a 
huge  placard  bearing  the  words:  — 

HAMLET 
A  POWERFUL  CAST 

BY 

LOCAL  TALENT 

ADMISSION 
TEN  DOLLARS  —  FIVE  DOLLARS  —  Two  DOLLARS 

I  paid  two  dollars  and  went  into  the  gallery.  A  few  soldiers 
were  there.  The  parquet  was  pretty  well  packed  with  officers, 
civilians,  and  ladies. 

The  curtain  had  long  since  risen  in  the  second  act.  Three 
persons  were  on  the  stage. 

One,  who  I  know  is  personating  Hamlet,  says  in  a  startling 
squall :  — 

/  am  but  mad  north-northwest ;  when  the  wind  is  southerly  I  know  a 
hawk  from  a  handsaw. 

A  fourth  man  enters  and  speaks :  — 
Well  be  with  you,  gentlemen  ! 

The  audience  applauds.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  actor  is  a 
favourite,  at  least  for  this  night's  performance.  His  voice  — 
Polonius's  —  is  more  nearly  natural  than  the  prince's.  The 
play  proceeds. 

Presently  Polonius  makes  a  long  speech :  — 


376        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

The  best  actors  in  the  world,  either  for  tragedy,  comedy,  history,  pasto- 
ral, pastoral-comical,  historical-comical,  tragical-historical,  tragical-comi- 
cal, historical-pastoral,  scene  individable,  or  poem  unlimited  :  Seneca 
cannot  be  too  heavy,  nor  Plautus  too  light-  For  the  law  of  writ,  and  the 
liberty,  these  are  the  only  men. 

Polonius  says  it  very  well.  His  voice  is  good  and  Ms  man- 
ner in  keeping  with  the  part  —  grave,  dignified,  a  trifle  over- 
pompous.  He  reminds  me  of  I  know  not  whom. 

The  third  act  has  ended.  Polonius's  dead  body  has  been 
dragged  out  by  Hamlet,  to  the  applause  of  the  whole  house. 

And  now  the  martial  scene  of  Act  Fourth.  The  leader  of  the 
troops  raises  his  huge  sword  and  speaks :  — 

Go,  Captain,  from  me  greet  the  Danish  King  ; 
Tell  him  that,  by  his  license,  Fortinbras 
Craves  the  conveyance  of  a  promised  march 
Over  his  kingdom.     You  know  the  rendezvous. 

Again  the  applause,  again  the  voice  of  Polonius,  and  again 
—  I  know  it  now  —  the  voice  of  Scranton. 

The  play  goes  on.  I  have  no  eyes  or  ears  for  any  but  For- 
tinbras. The  lights  in  the  gallery  are  dull ;  I  have  no  fear. 

The  play  is  ending.  Fortinbras  tells  us  that  he  embraces  his 
fortune  with  sorrow ;  the  curtain  falls.  I  start,  and  reach  the 
stairs.  The  audience  applauds  mightily,  and  at  length  Hamlet, 
and  Fortinbras  alias  Polonius  alias  Scranton,  appear  hand  in 
hand,  and  make  their  bow ;  and  Hamlet  speaks :  — 

"  Ladies  and  Gentlemen :  It  is  with  a  peculiar  mixture  of 
pleasure  and  regret  that  I  beg  to  acquaint  you  with  two  things. 
First,  our  misfortune,  which  has  deprived  us  of  two  of  our  com- 
pany to-night,  has  been  more  than  repaired,  as  you  well  know, 
by  the  illustrious  actor  whom  I  hold  by  the  hand ;  second,  this 
gentleman  who  has  so  kindly  come  to  our  rescue  to-night  in 
taking  the  parts  of  both  Polonius  and  Fortinbras  has  but  now 
recovered  from  wounds  received  in  battle,  and  to-morrow  returns 
to  his  command  under  Hampton.  Hereafter,  when  your  mind 


FORTINBRAS  37r 

recurs  to  the  great  Shakespearian  drama,  I  know,  Ladies  and 
Gentlemen,  that  you  will  remember  with  interest  the  gallant 
Captain  Owen  of  the  Confederate  army." 

As  I  reached  the  street  the  applause  within  the  house  could 
yet  be  heard. 

When  I  saw  Dr.  Almonte  I  wrote  one  line  on  the  slate :  — 

Owen  leaves  to-morrow.     We  must  act  at  once. 


XXXIV 

THE    SEIZURE 

"This  is  the  thing  that  I  was  born  to  do."  —  SAMUEL  DANIEL. 

A  CLOSED  carriage  was  moving  slowly  on  Main  Street,  going 
westward.  The  negro  driver  was  in  modest  livery.  The 
horses  were  impatient. 

Sidewalks  were  crowded;  groups  of  officers — men  with 
their  arms  in  slings — men  on  crutches — negroes  bearing  bur- 
dens— no  ladies. 

The  bell  on  the  guard-house  was  striking  twelve. 

I  was  wearing  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate  captain — a 
soiled  uniform.  Two  soldiers  raised  their  hands  to  me  in 
salute.  I  returned  their  salute. 

I  was  walking  westward,  keeping  pace  with  the  carriage. 

The  day  was  hot;  many  eyes  were  upon  the  vehicle,  in  which, 
for  the  closed  curtains,  no  one  could  be  seen ;  was  it  possible 
that  no  one  was  within  ?  The  glass  windows,  however,  were 
open. 

At  the  corner  of  Tenth,  just  where  you  leave  Main  to  go  up 
to  the  Capitol,  the  horses  stopped  short  for  a  moment;  some 
huge  army  wagons,  turning  the  corner  in  an  opposite  direction, 
were  blocking  the  way  completely. 

I  stepped  slowly  to  the  side  of  the  carriage,  turned  the 
handle  of  the  door,  opened  it,  entered,  and  immediately  shut 
myself  in.  The  carriage  was  moving  on. 

Scherzer  stared  at  me,  looking  very  angry;  he  did  not  speak 
—  possibly  he  was  in  doubt  whether  he  should  use  good  lan- 
guage or  broken  English. 

378 


THE  SEIZUEE  379 

I  had  a  drawn  revolver  in  my  hand.  The  chances  were  good 
that  my  captive  was  not  armed. 

"No  bodily  harm  is  intended,"  said  I;  "be  quiet,  or  — " 
and  I  handled  the  pistol  threateningly. 

He  cowered  and  glared  back  at  me.  I  saw  that  at  this  in- 
stant he  recognized  me. 

His  hand  went  to  the  door-knob. 

"Try  it  as  much  as  you  wish,"  said  I;  "it  is  fast  enough." 

"  Misser  Bairveek,  vot  you  do  vit  me  dees  time  ?  " 

"  I  shall  treat  you  kindly  enough,"  I  replied.  "  All  I  exact 
is  that  you  raise  no  outcry.  Will  you  treat  with  me  ?  " 

"Vot  you  mean  by  treat?" 

"  Make  terms  with  me." 

"  You  vant  money  ?  " 

"  Not  a  dollar.  I  want  you  to  go  back  to  your  own  country 
—  to  France." 

"  I  cannot." 

"  You  want  us  to  hold  you  till  the  war  ends  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply.  The  carriage  had  driven  into  the  Capitol 
grounds.  I  had  lifted  the  curtains.  A  man  was  standing  at 
the  side  of  the  carriageway,  a  man  dressed  as  a  Confederate 
colonel.  I  saluted.  The  carriage  stopped  and  he  sprang  in. 
I  changed  seats  to  the  front.  The  colonel  sat  by  the  captive. 

"Colonel,  I  would  introduce  your  prisoner,  but  I  do  not 
know  his  real  name.  I  suppose  he  wishes  to  be  called 
Scheultz;  among  the  Federals  he  was  Scherzer.  He  is  an 
educated  gentleman ;  at  least  he  can  speak  excellent  English 
on  occasion." 

Carpenter  gave  no  reply  ;  he  had  merely  returned  my  salute. 

Scherzer  seemed  astounded ;  he,  too,  was  silent. 

A  sergeant  approached  the  carriage  and  raised  his  hand  in 
salute. 

"  Colonel,  the  transportation  will  be  ready." 

"  Very  well.     Keport  at  six  with  four  men." 

The  carriage  moved  on ;  the  curtains  remained  open. 


380        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"It  matters  not  who  you  are,"  said  I  to  Scherzer;  "your 
game  is  known  and  blocked ;  you  will  consult  your  own  inter- 
est by  giving  us  your  parole  that  you  will  not  try  to  escape." 

He  shook  his  head  vigorously. 

The  carriage  drove  on  rapidly,  turned  several  corners,  left 
the  city,  and  entered  the  cemetery.  Those  who  knew  Holly- 
wood at  the  time  of  the  war,  remember  its  charming  seclusion, 
its  deep  recesses  of  wood  and  dale,  its  utter  isolation  from  the 
crowds  of  living  humanity.  I  continued  to  argue  with  Scherzer. 

"  But  eef  I  do  not  so  you  veesh,  vot  vill  you  do  vit  me  ?  " 
he  asked  again. 

"  We  shall  secure  you  so  that  you  can  do  nothing,"  said  I. 

"Captain,"  said  Carpenter,  "let  the  prisoner  make  up  his 
mind  without  trying  to  influence  him." 

"  But  I  do  appeal  to  de  law,"  said  Scherzer. 

"  Let  the  law  take  its  course,"  said  Carpenter. 

The  carriage  drove  on. 

At  two  o'clock  we  left  the  cemetery  and  made  toward 
Shockoe,  going  slowly. 

At  four  o'clock  the  carriage  was  at  Rocketts. 

At  six  o'clock  the  carriage  was  near  the  Tredegar  Iron 
Works,  still  going  slowly,  consuming  time. 

At  dusk  the  carriage  passed  by  Almonte's  ;  men  were  on  the 
sidewalk,  going  and  coming.  The  carriage  drove  on  by. 

In  half  an  hour  Almonte's  was  again  approached ;  there  was 
no  one  on  the  sidewalk — the  carriage  stopped. 

The  colonel  seized  an  arm  of  the  prisoner. 

The  doctor's  house  was  dark,  the  storeroom  was  dark. 

The  three  men  entered  the  alley.  York  drove  down  the 
street  rapidly. 

The  three  men  went  down  the  alley.  They  went  through 
the  small  gate  at  the  rear  of  the  store-room. 

They  went  into  the  store-room,  and  passed  through  an  open- 
ing and  into  a  back  yard.  A  door  opened,  and  a  small  room 
was  entered.  Here  was  one  candle  burning ;  a  small  bed  and 


THE   SEIZURE  381 

other  necessary  furnishings  were  in  the  room.  Carpenter  went 
out  and  left  me  alone  with  the  prisoner. 

"  Misser  Bairveek,"  said  he,  "  vot  you  to  do  vit  me  ?  " 

He  sat  on  the  bed. 

"  Scherzer,  I'm  going  to  treat  you  better  than  I  did  in  the 
swamp,  that  is,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  Vill  you  let  me  gif  my  vord  I  go  zees  contree'  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  cannot  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,  but  I  will  treat  you 
well,  and  see  you  safe  aboard  ship." 

"  Zen  I  see  you  at  hell." 

"  Better  make  up  your  mind  to  it.  I  shall  leave  you  alone 
now,  so  that  you  can  retire ;  but  first  I  want  your  papers." 

He  offered  no  resistance,  but  at  once  handed  me  a  long  blank 
envelope  sealed.  There  was  no  address  whatever.  I  put  it  in 
my  pocket;  I  would  deliver  it  to  General  Meade. 

I  went  into  the  back  yard.  Carpenter  caught  me  by  the 
hand. 

"A  squad  of  soldiers  are  searching  Dr.  Almonte's  house," 
he  whispered. 

"  Are  you  certain  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  had  a  narrow  escape  down  the  back  stairs." 

"  Blessed  thing  I  brought  my  gun  out.    Is  the  doctor  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  in  bed  right  enough." 

"  Then  let  them  search,"  said  I ;  "  but  how  do  you  suppose 
they  were  put  on  our  scent  ?  " 

"  Somebody  saw  us  come  into  the  alley,  I  think." 

"Has  York  got  back?" 

"  Not  yet.     I'm  looking  for  him  every  minute." 

"We  must  keep  him  from  going  into  the  alley  until  the 
guard  leave.  Be  on  the  lookout  for  him." 

"All  right,  sir." 

There  was  a  closed  window  to  Scherzer's  room  —  a  narrow 
apartment  made  expressly  for  his  accommodation  by  running 
a  doorless  partition  across  the  second  vacant  store-room.  Car- 
penter had  gone  to  the  corner  and  was  waiting  for  York.  I 


382        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

could  hear  heavy  feet  in  Almonte's  rooms.  I  wondered  what 
influence  had  been  set  to  work  against  me.  I  went  back  into 
Scherzer's  room.  He  was  yet  sitting  on  the  bed.  I  heard  the 
soldiers  go  down  the  front  stairs. 

"  If  you  need  your  things  at  the  hotel,  I  will  send  for  them. 
Give  me  an  order ;  I  will  see  that  your  bill  is  paid  also." 

He  looked  at  me  curiously.  "I  do  vidout  zem,"  he  said. 
"  Capitan  Owen,  he  can  pay." 

Then  Owen  had  not  gone ! 

Would  the  house  —  the  doctor's  house  —  be  watched  ?  Owen 
had  by  some  means  learned  of  the  seizure.  I  had  been  foolish 
in  supposing  that  he  would  go  away  before  Scherzer  reported 
success.  Owen  was  Scherzer's  —  not  Hampton's.  He  had 
waited  for  his  master's  return,  and  had  grown  suspicious  at 
long  delay ;  he  had  begun  pursuit.  I  wished  I  had  first  taken 
Owen. 

I  had  little  fear  that  the  prisoner  would  be  found.  But  now 
there  came  loud  knocks  on  the  street  door  of  the  store-room  on 
the  alley. 

Scherzer  made  a  movement  —  he  had  heard. 

The  knocking  continued.  In  a  moment  there  was  knocking 
at  the  back  door  also. 

"  Break  in ! "  said  a  loud  voice  at  the  front. 

Now  men  were  entering  the  front  door  of  the  first  store-room. 
I  grasped  Scherzer  by  the  wrist,  and  blew  out  the  light. 

"  Make  the  slightest  sound,  and  I'll  throttle  you ! "  I  whis- 
pered in  his  ear. 

There  were  voices  and  footsteps  in  the  first  store-room.  I 
hardly  dared  to  breathe ;  I  kept  one  hand  on  Scherzer's  wrist, 
the  other  on  his  throat,  but  not  pressing  it. 

Some  time  passed  —  I  know  not  how  long  a  time.  The 
voices  and  footsteps  were  heard  no  more.  I  released  Scherzer. 

Half  an  hour  later  Carpenter  came  to  the  door.  He  was 
sure  that  the  search  had  ended,  but  was  not  sure  that  no 
soldier  had  been  left  near  by  to  watch.  * 


THE   SEIZURE  383 

u  Is  it  safe  to  confer  with  the  doctor  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  For  me,  yes ;  but  not  for  you,  I  fear." 

Carpenter  left  me,  and  it  was  long  past  midnight  when  he 
returned.  He  drew  me  away  from  the  bed  on  which  Scherzer 
had  stretched  himself.  . 

"  A  guard  is  at  every  corner  of  the  block,"  he  whispered. 

"  Have  you  seen  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  advises  complete  quiet ;  he  thinks  the  search 
has  been  given  up,  but  that  a  watch  may  be  maintained  for 
days." 

"  Carpenter,  we  must  get  away ;  it  will  not  do  to  stay  here." 

"  Yes,  but  how  to  get  away  ?  " 

"We  must  overpower  one  of  the  guards  unless  we  can 
deceive  him  in  some  way." 

"  You  mean  to  leave  this  man  here  ?  " 

"  Not  by  any  means.  I  shall  risk  everything  —  everything 
—  I  shall  take  him  with  me.  Dr.  Almonte  is  wrong  —  is 
wrong;  we  must  go.  Scherzer  would  die  here  in  this  hot 
place.  I  wonder  how  he  can  sleep  ;  he  must  be  pretending." 

For  a  minute  or  more  Carpenter  was  silent ;  then  he  said : 
"  I  can  manage  it.  Let  us  get  our  watches  together.  No, 
never  mind  that ;  when  the  guard-house  bell  strikes  three,  I'll 
have  a  man  on  Marshall  Street  and  another  on  Clay  to  make  a 
noise.  The  sentinels  at  the  corners  will  run  to  the  noise. 
When  you  hear  the  guard-house  bell  strike  three,  you  can 
march  Scherzer  across  Seventh,  and  into  the  alley  opposite. 
There  I  will  join  you  and  we  will  go  to  my  house." 

The  moon  had  gone  down  before  twelve. 

"  I  can't  think  of  a  better  plan,  Carpenter ;  but  I  object  to 
going  to  your  house.  We'd  better  go  anywhere  else." 

"Then  we'll  go  to  the  fisherman's  room  near  the  bridge," 
said  he. 

"  What  room  ?  " 

"  The  fisherman's.     He's  faithful,  and  we'll  be  safe." 

"  We  must  risk  it." 


384       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

A  few  minutes  before  three  I  laid  my  hand  on  Scherzer. 
He  was  really  sleeping.  I  shook  him,  and  he  sat  up,  yawn- 
ing. At  first  he  acted  strangely,  not  knowing  where  he  was. 

I  ordered  him  to  rise  and  go  before  me. 

"  Vot  you  to  do  vit  me  dees  time  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  shall  take  you  to  a  better  place.  Don't  you  fiad  it  very 
warm  here  ?  " 

"  Tres  chaud  —  yes,  Misser  Bairveek." 

"  Go  before  me  and  be  silent." 

"But  eef  I  not—  " 

"  Then  you  may  force  me  to  use  violence.  You  are  in  no 
danger  unless  you  resist ;  but  you'd  better  make  terms  with 
me." 

"  Misser  Bairveek,  you  lofe  your  ccntree*  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Not  bettaire  zan  I." 

I  picked  up  a  chair,  and  gently  pushed  him  before  me  until 
we  were  in  the  first  store-room  ;  there  I  gave  him  the  chair  to 
sit  on.  He  used  his  hat  as  a  fan,  though  the  place  was  much 
cooler  than  that  he  had  left. 

The  front  door  had  been  left  half  open  by  the  soldiers  who 
had  searched  the  place ;  I  allowed  it  to  remain  so ;  I  stood 
near  the  prisoner  in  the  back  part  of  the  store-room. 

The  side  of  our  block,  that  is  to  say  the  distance  from  the 
corner  of  Clay  to  the  corner  of  Marshall  Street,  was  a  hundred 
yards.  At  either  corner  was  a  guard.  Carpenter's  project,  if 
successful,  would  cause  the  guard  at  either  corner  to  run 
toward  Sixth  Street  and  leave  Seventh  Street  unwatched  for  a 
short  time.  A  minute  would  suffice. 

Scherzer  said  nothing.  He  had  ceased  to  fan  himself.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  air  is  cool  enough,  if  you  can 
get  it.  His  head  was  bent,  his  chin  on  his  breast.  I  went  to 
the  door,  tiptoeing.  The  streets  and  sidewalks  were  deserted. 
I  returned  to  Scherzer ;  he  had  not  moved. 

The  slow  moments  grew. 


THE   SEIZURE  385 

To  get  this  man  out  of  Richmond  and  into  the  Union  lines 
was  a  work  well-nigh  impossible.  We  had  had  many  plans,  not 
one  of  which  seemed  entirely  feasible.  To  go  north,  south, 
east,  west,  all  routes  were  closed.  I  had  at  first  thought  that 
the  Pamunkey  might  be  reached,  and  a  boat  found  or  built  in 
which  we  could  float  by  night  to  White  House;  but  White 
House  had  been  abandoned,  and  West  Point  had  been  aban- 
doned, so  that  now  there  would  be  no  refuge  nearer  than  For- 
tress Monroe,  unless  by  chance  we  should  run  up  with  some 
Union  vessel  in  the  bay.  I  had  given  up  the  Pamunkey  route. 

Then  I  had  for  a  little  while  seriously  considered  the  Chick- 
ahominy  swamp;  to  go  down  its  northern  bank  in  the  way 
we  had  journeyed  with  Scranton  two  weeks  ago,  seemed  feasi- 
ble. But  Dr.  Khayme  had  impressed  upon  me  the  necessity 
for  my  keeping  out  of  that  swamp.  Fever  there  again  would 
be  fatal. 

To  go  north  —  toward  Frederick sburg  —  was  to  go  a  long 
distance  through  a  country  filled  with  inhabitants  devoted  to 
the  South,  and  where  the  Confederates  constantly  gathered 
forage,  and  where  they  rode  night  and  day. 

To  go  west — up  the  James — would  be  an  endless  journey. 
I  could  not  hope  to  guard  Scherzer  so  closely  that  for  many 
days  he  would  not  find  himself  in  presence  of  some  one  who 
would  suspect,  whom  an  exclamation  of  the  prisoner  might 
bring  to  the  rescue. 

The  project  of  going  south  —  across  the  James  —  and  around 
the  right  flank  of  the  Confederate  army,  which  now  rested 
miles  beyond  Petersburg,  had  been  canvassed.  There  would 
be  no  great  trouble  in  crossing  the  James,  for  Carpenter  had 
already  in  his  pay  more  than  one  fisherman  whose  boat  lay 
down  at  the  wharf,  but  the  James  was  not  all ;  the  Appomat- 
tox  also  must  be  crossed. 

But  for  the  Confederate  pontoon  bridges  across  the  James, 
down  that  river  would  be  the  quickest  and  safest  route.  The 
obstructions  sunk  in  the  river  by  the  Confederates  would  not 
2c 


386        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

hinder  a  small  boat,  and  by  selecting  the  darkest  hours  o\ 
three  successive  nights,  and  hiding  inshore  in  the  intervals, 
we  could  make  the  venture  with  a  minimum  of  risk.  But  the 
bridges  seemed  an  almost  insuperable  difficulty,  for  there  were 
three  of  them.  Of  course  I  knew  that  on  a  dark  night  it  was 
not  impossible,  even  under  the  fire  of  the  sentinels,  to  pass,  in 
a  specially  constructed  boat,  beneath  a  pontoon  bridge ;  but  an 
alarm  given  would  make  our  capture  below  absolutely  sure,  for 
the  river  on  both  sides  was  lined  with  batteries  and  regiments 
—  especially  at  and  beyond  the  lowest  bridge.  Moreover, 
Scherzer  might  prove  impossible  to  manage.  I  had  tried  re- 
peatedly to  treat  with  him ;  he  had  refused.  Indeed,  if  he  had 
consented  to  my  wishes,  the  getting  out  of  Richmond  would  be 
comparatively  easy.  Scherzer,  willingly  wearing  Confederate 
uniform,  and  willingly  conniving  at  our  scheme,  would  have 
made  our  escape  a  task  of  little  trouble.  It  was  his  obstinate 
persistence  in  refusing  to  treat  with  me  that  made  my  thought 
dwell  on  the  river,  where,  in  a  boat,  we  could  thoroughly  con- 
trol him.  But  the  bridges  and  the  batteries  were  not  all ;  the 
river  itself  was  full  of  danger;  Confederate  picket-boats 
patrolled  it;  if  one  should  approach  us,  even  in  the  night, 
the  captive  could  summon  help. 

I  must  talk  again  with  Carpenter  about  the  river ;  great  risk 
must  be  run,  but  some  way  must  be  chosen. 

******* 

The  guard-house  bell  began  to  strike.  Before  the  third 
stroke  rang,  I  was  in  the  doorway  with  my  man.  Holding 
Scherzer  by  the  wrist  with  one  hand  and  my  gun  in  the  other, 
I  leaned  out  and  looked ;  then  I  pulled  him  sharply,  and  we 
walked  straight  across  the  street,  my  arm  beneath  his.  At 
my  right  I  heard  scampering  feet. 

In  the  alley  opposite  were  Carpenter  and  York. 


XXXV 

A  THOROUGHFARE 

*  But  oars  alone  can  ne'er  prevail 

To  reach  the  distant  coast ; 
The  breath  of  heaven  must  swell  the  sail, 
Or  all  the  toil  is  lost."  —  COWPBR. 

WE  passed  through  the  alley  to  Eighth  Street,  Carpenter 
leading,  York  bringing  up  the  rear.  At  Eighth,  Carpenter 
turned  to  the  right,  going  slowly.  There  were  no  lights,  no 
moon,  no  stars  —  a  cloudy  night.  Carpenter's  course  was 
southeast  —  toward  the  river.  He  went  two  blocks  and 
halted.  In  the  darkness  I  could  just  make  out  that  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  a  group  of  men ;  I  stopped.  Scherzer  struggled 
a  little,  but  I  held  him  fast.  "  Come  on,"  said  Carpenter. 

When  I  reached  him,  he  said,  "  There  is  nothing  wrong ;  my 
detail  has  come  up." 

There  were  four  men,  armed.  Carpenter  ordered  York  to 
go  home.  Then  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  squad, 
with  Scherzer  and  me  in  the  middle,  and  marched  boldly 
down  Eighth  Street.  The  men  had  their  rifles  at  the  carry, 
and  kept  step,  and  I  with  them,  making  the  pavements  ring 
at  times.  At  the  corner  of  Main  there  was  a  light  on  the 
sidewalk,  a  dim  light  coming  from  the  entrance  of  the  Spots- 
wood  Hotel.  Carpenter  marched  his  squad  through  this  light, 
turning  down  Main.  An  officer  was  standing  here ;  he  moved 
out  of  our  way  ;  he  saluted  Carpenter.  Down  Main  we  went 
for  many  blocks  —  nine  I  counted,  and  turned  again  to  the 
right,  making  toward  the  river.  And  now  I  felt  a  hand  on 
my  arm  and  heard  Carpenter  say  "Stop!" 

387 


?88        A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

The  squad  marched  on,  keeping  time  with  their  feet;  I 
heard  them  turn  the  next  corner. 

Carpenter  guided  me  into  a  blind  alley,  and  into  a  yard,  and 
up  a  flight  of  stairs.  He  struck  a  match  and  lighted  a  candle. 
The  room  was  squalid  enough. 

"  Where  are  we  ?  "  I  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  In  a  block  of  the  Libby." 

Scherzer  sank  down  on  the  only  chair  in  the  room 

"  Can't  we  get  a  bed  for  him  of  some  kind  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night ;  but  we'll  fix  him  up  to-morrow." 

"  Can't  you  get  a  mattress  ?  " 

"No." 

"  How  long  is  it  till  day  ?  " 

"  Day  is  breaking  now." 

"  Carpenter,  I  have  come  to  a  decision." 

"Ah!  And  what?" 

"  We  must  take  to  the  river." 

"  Whatever  you  say,  we'll  do." 

"  Come  out  here  in  the  passage.  .  .  .  Now,  I'm  going  to 
send  York  back  for  more  help,  for  just  such  help  as  we  need ;  I 
know  where  to  get  it.  Meantime  I'm  going  to  examine  the  river. 
How  far  down  are  the  pontoon  bridges  ?  Tell  me  again." 

''One  is  about  three  miles  from  here;  a  mile  and  a  half 
below  Rocketts ;  it  is  not  entirely  pontoon  —  half  pile  and 
half  pontoon;  the  second  is  at  Warwick,  about  three  miles 
below  the  first,  and  the  third  at  Chaffin's  Bluff,  three  miles 
farther  down." 

"  Carpenter,  I'm  going  to  examine  all  of  them,  and  I'm  going 
to  start  at  once.  When  can  you  see  York  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know.  If  you  go  away,  I'll  be  compelled  to  lock 
myself  up  with  Scherzer.  But  I  can  safely  send  York  word  to 
come  here." 

"  That  will  do.  It  may  take  me  several  days  to  do  what  I'm 
going  to  do,  and  it  is  better  for  us  to  be  very  quiet  now ;  better 
for  me  to  be  away.  I  shall  leave  a  note  for  York." 


A  THOROUGHFARE  389 

"All  right." 

"  And  Carpenter !  You  must  put  your  wits  together  and  get 
a  boat  that  four  or  five  men  can  go  down  the  river  in." 

"Easy  enough,"  said  Carpenter.  "I  can  get  her  ready  in 
forty-eight  hours.  I'll  make  a  false  gunwale  with  tarpaulins 
that  can  be  lowered,  and  we'll  slip  under  the  bridges  without 
touching." 

"  And  you  can  take  charge  of  Scherzer  till  I  get  back  ?  " 

"  Easily ;  better  than  if  you  were  here,"  said  he. 

"  And  you  must  search  him  carefully.  I  have  one  package 
of  papers,  but  he  may  have  others.  And  another  thing. 
Get  your  friends  to  see  General  Ewell's  people  —  I  want  a 
fresh  pass.  Put  in  it  the  name  of  Private  B.  Jones,  First 
South  Carolina." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

I  wrote  three  words  for  Carpenter  to  give  to  York,  and 
explained  that  the  negro  must  at  once  set  out  for  the  Sanitary 
Camp.  The  note  bore  no  address ;  it  simply  said :  — 

"  In  trouble  —  come." 

******* 

The  sun  was  rising  at  my  left  oblique  as  I  quit  the  suburbs. 
At  my  right  lay  a  fleet  of  the  last  gunboats  of  the  Confederate 
navy,  intermingled  with  tugs  and  picket-boats  and  barges.  In 
the  stretch  of  the  James  below  was  Drewrey's  Island,  and  be- 
yond it  a  dark  strips  reaching  from  bank  to  bank  —  the  first 
pontoon  bridge. 

My  road  ran  parallel  with  the  river  and  almost  directly  south 
—  here  the  same  road  by  which  I  had  entered  Richmond. 
Only  at  times  could  the  river  be  seen  —  the  road  sank  in 
hollows  and  rose  again.  I  met  men  and  wagons  and  ambu- 
lances, but  had  no  fear  in  meeting  them,  for  the  Confeder- 
ate lines  were  far  below.  A  mile  or  so  south  of  Rocketts 
I  crossed  a  creek ;  beyond  it  I  saw  a  road  coming  in  from 
the  river ;  I  took  the  new  road.  Evidently  it  went  to  the 
bridge. 


390        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Soon  I  came  to  the  top  of  a  hill  from  which  I  could  see  the 
river  again  and  the  pontoon  bridge  stretching  across.  On  the 
bridge  was  neither  wagon  nor  man.  At  the  far  side  I  could 
see  a  single  sentinel  standing  at  support  arms.  On  my  side 
the  end  of  the  bridge  was  not  visible  on  account  of  irregularity 
of  the  ground.  I  turned  and  went  on  down  the  river. 

The  first  bridge  could  be  easily  passed.  I  had  seen  that  it 
was  hardly  an  obstacle ;  the  sentinel  at  either  end  was  insuffi- 
cient watch  against  my  enterprise  .  .  .  but  what  if,  by  night, 
guards  were  posted  all  along  the  bridge  ?  I  would  risk  that ;  I 
knew  the  weakness  of  the  Confederate  forces. 

Again  I  was  marching  down  the  river  turnpike ;  soon  it 
forked  —  the  left-hand  going  to  New  Market.  I  kept  toward 
the  right.  You  remember  that  the  reserves  were  planted 
across  my  road ;  I  had  passed  around  them  on  the  night  of 
the  3d.  I  would  wait  till  night  to  get  through. 

But  it  was  yet  early  morning.  These  reserves  posted  across 
the  road  did  not  extend  far  to  the  left ;  I  would  flank  them  as 
I  had  done  in  coming.  And  I  did  flank  them,  but  it  took  long, 
so  that  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I  stood  again  in  sight 
of  the  James.  And  I  was  very  weary,  for  on  the  preceding 
night  I  had  not  slept  after  a  day  of  terrible  suspense.  So  I 
found  a  hiding-place,  and  the  night  passed  in  a  moment. 

Before  sunrise  I  was  following  a  creek  flowing  to  my  right, 
and  soon  I  came  to  the  river,  which  stretched  straight  south 
for  more  than  a  mile  below.  Looking  up  I  could  see  the  west 
end  of  the  first  bridge ;  looking  down  I  could  see  the  west  end 
of  the  second  bridge.  I  was  almost  midway  between  the  two, 
and  could  see  neither  plainly  —  only  the  end  of  each  on  the 
far  side  of  the  river. 

I  left  the  river  and  retreated  to  the  hills,  making  my  way 
slowly  and  cautiously  nearer  to  the  bridge  below.  Straight 
south  the  horizon  was  hazy  with  smoke,  and  from  the  south 
came  the  dull  sound  of  cannon  —  not  pulsating,  but  almost 
continuous  in  vibration.  I  kept  going  south  —  going  slowly. 


A  THOROUGHFARE  391 

Five  miles  from  Richmond  —  half  a  mile  to  the  pontoon 
bridge  at  Warwick. 

I  wondered  where  York  was  by  this  time  —  doubtless  in 
some  swamp,  getting  around  the  Confederate  right ;  it  was  not 
possible  that  he  had  reached  the  Doctor.  I  wondered  where 
the  Doctor  was  —  doubtless  in  some  trench,  some  rifle-pit, 
stanching  some  wound  made  by  a  sharp-shooter's  bullet.  I 
wondered  where  Lydia  was  —  no  doubt  like  her  father  she,  too, 
was  at  this  moment  ministering  to  the  wounded.  I  blamed 
myself  for  having  sent  York  for  the  Doctor  —  yet  the  work  I 
was  attempting  seemed  more  important  than  one  life,  or  many 
lives,  and  I  was  solaced. 

Now,  in  the  thicket,  I  saw  a  tall  tree  before  me  ;  I  climbed 
the  tree ;  from  an  altitude  of  only  twelve  feet  I  could  see  the 
bridge  distinctly  —  from  one  end  to  the  other  —  but  six  hun- 
dred yards  away.  The  bridge  was  crowded  with  troops  and 
wagons  —  going  toward  the  right  bank  —  going  from  me.  Ten 
minutes  later  the  bridge  was  clear.  I  could  see  a  sentinel  at 
either  end ;  none  in  the  middle. 

I  came  down  from  the  tree  and  approached  the  road  at  my 
left.  I  would  go  beyond  the  bridge  and  take  a  look  at  it  from 
below. 

As  I  approached  the  road  I  heard  a  noise  —  a  sound  as 
though  a  single  horseman  was  coming  up  the  hill.  I  got 
behind  a  bush  and  watched.  The  ground  before  me  was  undu- 
lating, so  that  the  road  fell  and  rose  more  than  once  within 
the  scope  of  my  vision  as  I  looked  south.  The  first  thing  I  saw 
was  a  horse's  head,  and  I  wondered  why  I  did  not  see  the 
man's.  Could  the  rider  be  a  boy  ?  True,  I  could  see  the  top 
of  a  hat,  I  thought,  but  unless  this  horse  was  a  beast  very 
different  from  the  average  Confederate  cavalry  horse,  the 
rider's  head  would  be  very  visible.  Now  I  could  see  nothing  — 
horse  and  rider  had  disappeared  in  the  hollow  road. 

But  almost  presently  I  saw  the  surface  of  the  rise  dotted 
with  a  black  speck  beyond  it  —  a  speck  growing  —  coming — • 


392        A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

a  horse's  head  —  his  neck  —  his  withers  —  and  it  flashed  over 
me  that  I  had  seen  that  horse  somewhere  before  —  and  then 
I  saw  the  right  leg  of  the  rider  —  the  man  himself  invisible 
behind  the  horse's  neck  —  but  the  horse  tossed  his  head  aside 
—  and  I  saw  Dr.  Khayme ! 

Time  had  been  when  I  thought  that  nothing  could  surprise 
me  in  regard  to  this  little  man ;  but  I  avow  that  I  now  stood 
for  an  instant  rooted  to  the  spot. 

The  Doctor  rode  up  to  me ;  he  had  shown  no  first  impulse  to 
pass  my  hiding-place  —  he  simply  rode  up  to  me. 

"  Doctor  —  "I  stammered,  "  I  don't  see  for  my  life  how  you 
got  here  so  soon." 

"So  soon?  I've  been  long  enough  about  it,  I  think.  I 
started  yesterday  morning.  Is  anything  wrong  ?  " 

"  And  you  haven't  seen  York  ?  " 

"No,"  the  Doctor  looked  at  me  inquiringly;  "have  you 
lost  him  ?  " 

"  I  sent  him  to  you,  Doctor ! " 

"He  had  not  reached  me;  but  I  had  begun  to  be  uneasy 
about  you,  and  —  " 

"  Doctor,  how  in  the  world  did  you  get  into  these  lines  ?  " 

"  Get  in !  There's  no  trouble  in  getting  in.  I  simply  rode 
around  them." 

Dr.  Khayme  always  wore  plain  civilian's  dress ;  with  his 
saddlebags  slung  behind  him  it  would  be  easy  to  think  him 
a  country  doctor. 

"You  have  been  long  absent,  Jones,"  he  continued,  "and 
Lydia  has  been  in  agony  about  you.  What  is  the  matter? 
Be  good  enough  to  tell  me ;  I  have  asked  twice." 

******* 

At  one  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  July  13th  a  strange  little 
boat  started  on  its  journey  down  the  James.  Dr.  Khayme 
had  gained  complete  control  of  the  French  noble,  who  now 
wore  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate  lieutenant  and  spoke  good 
English.  The  Doctor  had  visited  his  friend  Almonte,  and  had 


A  THOROUGHFARE  393 

pressed  upon  him  the  gift  of  the  horse  he  had  ridden.  York 
had  not  been  heard  of.  All  my  money  had  been  spent. 

The  night  was  very  dark ;  the  moon  had  gone  down ;  a  thick 
fog  rested  upon  the  surface  of  the  water  black  as  ink.  Car- 
penter sat  at  the  stern,  his  hand  on  the  rudder ;  a  pair  of  oars 
lay  within  his  reach.  Scherzer  was  lying  upon  a  blanket,  the 
Doctor  sitting  flat  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat.  My  place  was 
at  the  front ;  my  gun  lay  behind  me. 

The  boat  —  flat,  narrow,  floating  so  deep  in  the  water  that 
Carpenter's  tarpaulin  gunwale  was  an  essential  —  began  to 
drift  down  the  centre  of  the  stream.  Off  to  my  left  shone  a 
few  faint  sparks  —  lights  I  knew,  upon  the  unfinished  gun- 
boats at  Rocketts,  while  to  the  rear  of  my  right,  in  the  town 
of  Manchester,  there  was  the  glimmer  of  a  candle  in  some  win- 
dow, the  faint  reflection  streaking  with  vague  yellow  the 
quivering  surface  of  the  water.  No  sounds  came  to  my  ears 
except  the  rumbling  of  railroad  trains,  and  from  the  indistinct 
animation  of  the  wave  under  the  eastern  wind.  Peering  con- 
stantly, ear  alert,  hand  ready,  we  floated  in  utter  gloom  —  in 
utter  immediate  silence.  Seconds  at  last  became  minutes  — 
and  my  eyes,  accustomed  to  chaos,  could  discern  objects 
foreign  to  the  fog.  Flat  on  the  water  before  me  —  how 
far  I  could  not  know  —  swelled  out  suddenly  a  deeper  black- 
ness, and  I  whispered  "  Right,"  —  and  the  Doctor  whispered 
"  Right,"  —  and  the  boat  swerved  in  its  course,  and  we  floated 
on,  with  the  dark  hull  of  some  anchored  vessel  at  our  left,  and 
the  Chesterfield  shore  looming  close  to  leeward  —  too  close. 
Again  a  whisper,  and  the  boat  swung  to  the  left,  and  now  I 
could  see  land  again,  and  I  knew  that  we  were  passing  to 
the  right  of  Drewrey's  Island.  The  wind  freshened  and  tore 
the  fog;  my  vision  became  better;  the  boat  floated  on,  and 
passed  the  island,  and  in  midstream,  with  head  straight  south, 
was  making  for  the  first  pontoon  bridge.  I  could  not  yet  see 
it.  At  my  back  was  a  hundred  feet  of  quarter-inch  hemp  with 
an  anchor  fastened  to  the  end  —  and  two  extra  anchors  also  in 


394       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

the  bottom  of  the  boat.  I  lowered  the  anchor  into  the  water, 
and  let  it  touch  and  drag,  ready  at  the  moment  to  let  go  and 
hold.  I  let  go,  keeping  the  rope  taut.  The  boat  began  to  turn ; 
I  raised  the  anchor,  and  we  drifted  on;  again  I  let  go,  and 
again  I  pulled  up,  and  so  repeatedly,  checking  our  downward 
progress  by  instants,  and  listening  hard  for  the  tramp  of  a  sen- 
tinel on  the  wooden  floor  of  the  bridge.  At  last  I  saw  a  dark 
spot  on  the  water ;  the  spot  widened  and  became  a  line,  and  the 
line  became  an  ellipse.  My  companions  lay  flat. 

There  was  not  a  sound.  Crouching  low  I  watched  the  bridge 
rise  out  of  the  water,  and  rise  higher,  and  higher,  and  the 
thing  came  down  on  my  head  as  the  boat  glided  into  a  tunnel 
where  for  two  seconds  all  was  black  as  Egypt.  Then  I  looked 
round,  and  the  dark  blotch  was  behind  me,  and  was  fading, 
fading,  moving  northward  into  the  fog  until  the  f.-g  swallowed 
it. 

No  doubt  it  was  past  two  o'clock ;  to  make  the  second  pas- 
sage was  not  to  be  thought  of.  True,  we  might  get  through 
before  the  fog  lifted  —  but  not  far  enough  through.  The  dan- 
ger point  could  not  be  certainly  passed.  So  we  gently  turned 
the  boat  toward  the  left  bank,  and  before  daylight  were  lying 
hidden  under  overhanging  willows  near  the  mouth  of  Peyton's 
creek. 

Throughout  the  day  I  stood  watch  on  the  hills,  in  order  to 
divert  stragglers  from  our  hiding-place.  Men  passed  me  going 
and  coming  on  the  road,  but  none  moved  toward  the  river.  My 
companions  rested  and  slept. 

******* 

When  the  moon  went  down  it  was  an  hour  after  midnight. 
At  two  o'clock  we  started  for  the  second  bridge.  There  was 
no  fog  as  yet,  and  the  stars  gave  a  great  light  —  too  great  to 
dare  the  middle  of  the  stream.  Under  the  hanging  willows 
we  crept  on,  hoping  for  the  mist.  But  no  fog  came,  and  we 
reached  a  spot  where  we  could  see  the  bridge,  some  three 
hundred  yards  below,  and  we  knew  that  our  boat,  small  as  it 


A  THOEOUGHFAEE  395 

was,  would  be  seen  by  either  sentinel  if  we  should  dare  the 
middle  of  the  stream,  and  I  heard  Carpenter  grumble  oaths. 

And  now  great  fear  fell  upon  me  lest  day  should  come  be- 
fore darkness,  and  I  knew  that  only  prompt  action  could  give 
success  to  the  work.  I  ordered  Carpenter  to  put  the  boat 
ashore;  he  obeyed. 

"  Now,  Carpenter,"  I  whispered,  "  the  time  has  come.  When 
you  hear  me  reply  to  the  sentinel,  let  the  boat  go  under  the 
bridge,  close  to  the  bank.  Then  watch  for  me  below.  They 
may  let  me  go  on  at  once,  or  they  may  send  me  down  the 
river  to  McGowan's  brigade.  If  I  don't  get  to  you  before 
to-morrow  night,  just  go  on  without  me." 

I  went  up  the  hill.  Below  me  at  my  right  oblique,  stood 
the  sentinel  at  the  end  of  the  bridge,  and  nearer  to  me,  but 
beyond  the  road,  was  a  feeble  fire  where  lay  the  reserve 
guards.  I  advanced. 

"  Who  comes  there  ?  " 

"  A  friend  without  the  countersign ! " 

"  Corporal  of  the  guard,  post  Number  One ! " 

The  corporal  came.  I  told  him  I  had  a  pass  from  General 
Ewell. 

"  Come  to  the  fire,"  he  said. 

He  marched  in  my  front;  I  could  easily  have  run  on  by 
him.  He  stirred  the  fire  until  a  flame  arose;  then  he  took 
my  pass,  and  read  it. 

"  All  right,"  said  he ;  "  know  where  your  brigade  is  ?  " 

"  Somewhere  down  this  way ;  can  you  tell  me  where  it  is  ?  " 

"  You've  got  to  go  below  the  bluff  a  mile  or  more,  and  then 
take  to  your  left.  You've  come  the  wrong  way,  anyhow." 

Half  a  mile  below  the  bridge,  I  found  the  boat  waiting. 
We  floated  on  until  the  sky  became  red. 

******* 

We  started  before  the  moon  went  down,  for  many  miles 
must  be  made  before  the  day.  We  must  make  the  last  bridge 
early ;  not  only  above  it,  but  also  below  it  the  river  was  com- 


396       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

manded  by  batteries  past  which  we  must  float  in  darkness. 
Again  there  was  no  fog. 

For  a  time  Carpenter  sat  at  the  front  while  I  took  his  place 
in  the  stern.  By  the  stars  I  knew  that  our  course  was  bend- 
ing toward  the  southeast,  and  that  soon  we  should  be  under 
the  guns  of  Fort  Darling ;  we  hugged  the  north  bank,  against 
which  we  hoped  our  boat  could  not  be  seen  from  the  farther 
shore.  It  was  long  after  midnight,  for  the  moon  had  sunk 
behind  the  hills  —  when  we  saw  at  our  right  —  and  high  in  the 
air,  the  fortifications  at  Drewrey's.  There  were  no  lights,  but 
sounds  came  from  the  hill,  the  tramp  of  some  relieving  guard, 
I  thought ;  and  sounds  came  from  our  left  also,  where  in  the 
sedgy  flats  a  night  bird  flapped  its  wings.  Then  silently  I 
took  the  front,  and  we  pushed  a  little  farther  from  the  shore, 
and  a  little  farther,  until  we  floated  down  the  main  current, 
edging  off  to  the  right  bank,  for  we  must  now  pass  batteries 
on  the  eastern  shore,  and  almost  under  them  should  strike  the 
pontoon  bridge. 

But  presently  vapour  lay  upon  the  very  surface  of  the  water ; 
sitting,  I  could  see  nothing ;  standing  an  instant,  I  could  see  the 
dark  hills ;  another  instant,  and  I  saw  before  me  what  seemed 
a  single  wire  resting  on  the  white  vapour,  and  I  saw  spots  upon 
the  wire,  and  knew  that  sentinels  were  posted  along  the  bridge. 
I  let  go  the  anchor;  the  boat  swung  round  and  stood.  Now 
Carpenter,  twenty  feet  nearer  the  bridge,  could  see  where  to 
guide  to  strike  midway  between  two  guards ;  but  he  must  also 
compute  to  a  nicety  the  relative  speed  of  our  boat  and  of  the 
guards  marching  their  beats,  for  the  tramp  of  feet  upon  the 
bridge  came  to  our  ears.  Not  long  could  we  wait.  I  cut 
the  rope  and  again  the  boat  swung  round  and  made  for  the 
bridge.  All  flat  but  Carpenter;  hat  in  my  pocket,  neck 
stretched,  I  could  see  yet,  through  the  fog,  the  black  wire  —  a 
wire  no  longer,  but  a  broad  band,  and  I  could  see  two  men 
walking,  approaching  each  other,  toward  the  middle  of  the 
bridge,  and  I  knew,  too  late  to  warn  our  steersman,  who  now 


A  THOROUGHFARE  397 

was  prostrate  —  too  late  even  if  lie  had  seen  —  that  our  course 
was  straight  for  the  meeting-place,  now  not  forty  yards  away. 

The  boat  went  under  the  bridge,  grating  at  its  entrance 
against  the  side  of  one  of  the  pontoons.  Even  at  the  instant  I 
heard  footsteps,  hurrying  I  knew  to  the  upper  edge  of  the 
bridge,  and  then  I  heard  steps  hurrying  back  across  the  floor 
under  which  we  had  just  passed.  A  moment  more  and  a  flash, 
and  another,  and  two  reports  rang  out,  and  Carpenter  seized 
both  oars  and  pulled  away  manfully. 

We  were  two  hundred  yards  below  the  bridge ;  a  great  hub- 
bub arose  behind  us.  We  could  see  nothing;  the  fog  had 
thickened;  but  shouts  and  the  noise  of  running  came  to  us. 
Suddenly  from  our  left  a  red  mouth  opened  in  the  blackness, 
and  the  water  behind  us  split  wide  and  rose  high,  and  our  boat 
was  tossed  and  flung,  and  there  was  a  sound  as  though  heaven 
and  earth  had  come  together. 

Carpenter  muttered  a  horrible  oath. 

"  Be  calm,"  said  the  Doctor ;  "  it  is  our  safety.  The  picket- 
boats  will  not  come  under  the  fire." 

And  now  there  came  a  terrific  blast,  as  many  guns  opened  on 
the  water.  Left  and  rear  the  sky  was  ablaze ;  sheets  of  fire, 
hurricanes  crossing,  waterspouts  all  round  us,  which  we  could 
hardly  see.  The  boat  was  filling,  but  it  drifted  on.  One  of 
Carpenter's  oars  had  been  smashed,  and  the  hand  that  held  it 
broken.  I  stood  up  to  throw  out  the  anchors,  and  lighten  the 
boat,  and  at  that  instant  it  rocked  wildly  under  a  yet  more 
fearful  explosion  at  the  bow ;  I  lost  my  balance  and  fell  over- 
board. 


XXXVI 
BERWICK'S  LAST  SERVICE 

"Now,  good  or  bad,  'tis  but  the  chance  of  war." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

WHEN  I  rose  to  the  surface,  the  boat  was  not  to  be  seen ;  I 
could  see  nothing  at  all.  But  the  artillery  on  the  hills  flashed 
out  again  and  enabled  me  to  judge  my  course,  and  I  started 
down  the  river  with  the  long  breast-stroke,  hoping  that  I 
should  quickly  overtake  my  friends. 

Soon  the  cannon  hushed,  and  all  was  utter  blackness.  I 
tired  of  swimming,  and  lay  as  nearly  motionless  as  I  could,  and 
let  the  water  carry  me ;  being  compelled,  however,  to  use  some 
strength,  my  clothing  cumbering  me.  I  had  gone  three  or  four 
hundred  yards,  I  thought,  when  I  heard  voices  ahead,  and  the 
sound  of  oars.  I  used  my  hands  and  feet  vigorously  to  prevent 
drifting,  for  I  had  suspected  at  once  that  a  picket-boat  was  just 
before  me,  and  an  instant  later,  that  my  companions,  in  order 
to  avoid  it,  had  swerved  toward  the  left  bank. 

When  this  thought  came  to  me  I  turned  on  my  left  side,  my 
face  down-stream,  and  swam  silently  toward  the  shore.  The 
noise  of  the  picket-boat  died  away,  and  still  I  swam  on,  not  now 
directly  for  the  land,  but  down-stream  mainly,  approaching  the 
bank  very  gradually,  for  I  knew  that  the  Confederate  pickets 
were  beyond  Chaffin's  Bluff,  which  was  now  behind  me,  and  I 
must  land  below  them.  At  length  I  felt  almost  sure  that  I  had 
come  far  enough,  and  pulled  for  the  bank  and  crawled  out. 
Trees  were  around  me,  the  branches  hanging  over  the  water. 
I  took  off  my  coat  and  wrung  it.  The  night  was  warm,  and  I 

398 


BERWICK'S  LAST   SERVICE  399 

did  not  put  it  on  again,  but  walked  up  the  hill,  clad  in  a  gray 
shirt,  carrying  my  coat  on  my  arm.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  I 
turned  eastward,  and  walked  on.  I  could  not  know  whether  I 
was  between  the  lines,  but  I  could  play  either  part,  so  I  took 
some  pains  to  make  noises  as  I  went :  if  I  was  yet  in  the  Con- 
federate rear,  I  should  not  be  suspected ;  if  I  was  in  the  Fed- 
eral front  I  wanted  the  vedettes  to  hear  me,  else  they  might  fire. 

Before  I  had  gone  two  furlongs  I  heard  a  challenge.  I 
halted  and  responded  that  I  wanted  to  come  in,  and  that  I  was 
alone.  I  was  ordered  to  stay  where  I  was,  and  then  the 
vedette  called  for  a  corporal,  who  soon  came  up  to  me  and  took 
me  into  the  lines.  I  was  questioned,  and  not  wanting  to  give 
any  hint  of  the  enterprise  upon  which  General  Meade  had  sent 
me,  I  allowed  these  men  to  believe  that  I  was  what  I  seemed, 
a  Confederate  deserter.  Indeed,  my  answers  convinced  them 
that  I  was  of  McGowan's  brigade,  which  they  knew  to  be  in 
their  front.  These  troops  were  the  Eleventh  Maine  regiment, 
of  General  Foster's  command.  It  was  not  long  till  day,  when 
I  was  brought  before  Colonel  Plaisted,  who  soon  sent  me  off  to 
Colonel  Sharpe,  on  the  south  side.  When  I  reached  the  pro- 
vost-marshal's headquarters,  I  was  detained  outside  for  ten 
minutes  or  so;  then  I  was  ushered  into  his  presence.  He  was 
bending  over  a  pile  of  papers ;  his  back  was  toward  me. 

"Well!"  said  he,  perfunctorily,  without  looking  up;  "what 
corps  ? " 

"  The  secret  corps,  Colonel." 

He  turned  quickly.    "  Well,  I  will  be  dam'd,"  said  he. 
******* 

Scherzer  had  been  sent  to  Fort  La  Fayette.  Carpenter,  or 
rather  Lieutenant  Benavides,  formerly  of  the  Confederate 
army,  was  getting  ready  to  leave  for  Mexico,  despite  his 
wounded  hand,  to  join  the  patriots  who  were  resisting  the  for- 
eign occupation  of  the  land  of  his  birth.  York  had  returned. 


400       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

The  summer  went  away.  If  I  should  tell  all  I  saw,  and  all 
I  did  in  my  feeble  way,  this  work  would  take  me  too  long.  I 
saw  Burnside's  mine  explode.  I  saw  Hampton's  men  drive  2500 
head  of  beeves  away  from  Grant's  rear  and  into  the  Confeder- 
ate lines.  I  saw  the  battle  of  Reams's  Station  —  and  stood 
once  more  with  McGowan's  sharp-shooters  while  they  picked  off 
almost  every  horse  of  our  batteries,  and  afterward  captured  the 
guns.  I  saw  our  men  take  Fort  Harrison,  and  I  saw  much  more. 

On  the  night  of  December  30th  I  was  on  the  picket-line  of 
the  Sixth  corps,  where  the  Ninth  New  York  artillery  —  a  regi- 
ment so  called  yet,  but  serving  as  infantry  —  occupied  the  pits. 
I  was  dressed  as  I  usually  dressed  while  scouting  —  in  the 
uniform  of  a  Confederate  private  —  and  carried  an  Enfield. 
The  ground  over  which  I  had  to  go  was  almost  bare,  the  trees 
having  been  felled  and  used  for  fuel  by  the  armies,  which  at 
this  point,  just  east  of  the  Weldon  railroad,  were  perhaps  a 
mile  apart.  Here  and  there,  in  some  hollow,  were  a  few  bushes, 
and  the  smaller  twigs  of  the  felled  trees  lay  about  everywhere 
between  the  stumps,  affording  me  cover  in  my  silent  advance 
toward  the  enemy's  lines. 

The  night  was  exceedingly  cold.  This  ground  had  been 
fought  over  more  than  once ;  there  were  old  abandoned  lines  of 
rifle-pits  running  across  the  land,  and  the  earth  had  been  cut  up 
by  artillery  wheels  and  by  horses'  hoofs,  and  the  rain  had  filled 
the  ruts  and  the  hoof -prints,  and  now  a  thin  sheet  of  ice  was 
spread  over  the  little  pools  scattered  everywhere.  The  moon 
had  gone  down  before  nine  o'clock ;  the  stars  were  out  in  all 
their  glory,  Aldebaran  low  in  the  west,  Orion  higher,  then  great 
Sirius  —  and  Spica  in  the  southeast,  back  between  Forts  Sedg- 
wick  and  Hays — known  by  Yankees  and  Rebels  as  Hell  and 
Damnation. 

General  Meade  was  at  the  bedside  of  his  dying  son  in  Phila- 
delphia; General  Parke  was  in  command  of  the  army.  The 
character  of  my  service  had  long  since  been  extended ;  I  was 
now  the  head  of  a  body  of  scouts,  and  had  not  recently  done 


BERWICK'S  LAST  SERVICE  401 

such  work  as  General  Parke  required.  The  circumstances, 
however,  justified  him  in  sending  me  forward  alone:  a  strong 
expedition  had  been  prepared  by  General  Grant  against  Fort 
Fisher,  in  North  Carolina,  and  it  was  very  desirable  to  know 
whether  Lee's  army  would  remain  quiet. 

I  crept  along  —  not  going  directly  toward  the  Confederates, 
but  gradually  approaching  at  a  great  angle.  The  ice  crunched 
under  my  feet,  making  me  start  every  minute  in  expectation 
of  a  challenge,  but  I  was  yet  some  hundreds  of  yards  from  the 
vedettes,  who  were  doubtless  engaged  in  marking  time  to  pre- 
vent their  freezing.  It  was  a  sad  thing  —  this  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  in  the  winter  trenches  of  Petersburg ; 
half-fed  on  mouldy  meal,  clothing  in  tatters,  shoes  —  if  they 
had  any  —  tied  to  their  feet  with  rags ;  hopeless  of  the  end, 
they  yet  stood  in  their  ranks  and  died  for  their  faith.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  know  how  these  men  could  stand  against 
our  army  so  long ;  they  were  stanch  men ;  we  all  are  now  proud 
of  them.  It  is  no  wonder  that  some  of  them  deserted. 

A  long  hollow  was  before  me,  stretching  east  and  west 
between  the  lines.  I  had  been  told  that  the  Confederate  skir- 
mishers were  just  on  our  side  of  the  hollow,  and  I  supposed, 
of  course,  that  their  vedettes  were  at  least  a  hundred  yards  in 
front  of  their  pits,  so  as  I  approached  the  hollow  I  became 
exceedingly  careful,  crawling  from  one  stump  to  another, 
lying  behind  them  and  listening.  I  had  no  intention  on  this 
night  of  getting  into  the  lines ;  all  I  wanted  was  to  get  near 
enough  to  hear  great  movements. 

At  last,  lying  behind  a  stump,  I  saw,  some  fifty  yards  in 
front  of  me,  a  man  standing  stiff.  I  remained  motionless  for 
a  full  minute ;  then  I  moved  on  to  my  left  about  thirty  yards, 
and  paused  again  behind  another  stump.  Now  I  looked  for 
the  man  again,  and  was  surprised  to  see  him  moving  forward, 
—  and  not  alone,  but  followed  by  two  others.  In  an  instant  I 
knew  what  was  meant  —  these  men  had  decided  to  abandon  a 
hopeless  struggle  against  fate ;  they  were  coming  over. 


402        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

The  vedette's  post  having  thus  been  deserted,  I  decided  at 
once  to  go  forward  to  the  picket-line.  I  could  see  dim  spots 
of  light  above  the  pits  in  which  the  pickets  had  their  fires. 
I  crept  along  from  stump  to  stump,  and  at  length  succeeded  in 
getting  between  two  of  the  pits,  but  not  without  being  seen. 

"  Where'd  you  come  from  all  at  once  ?  "  asked  a  man  at  the 
pit  on  my  right.  He  was  standing  now,  having  risen  from  a 
sitting  posture  before  his  fire,  where,  in  blankets,  were  stretched 
the  forms  of  three  others. 

"  From  the  front,"  said  I ;  "  let  me  warm  my  hands  a  little, 
and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  What  brigade  is  this  ?  " 

"  Scales's." l 

"  Where's  McGowan's  ?" 

"  On  our  right." 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  raise  any  false  alarm,  but  you'd 
better  wake  up  your  men.  Your  vedettes  have  gone  to  the 
Yankees." 

"  The  hell  you'  say !  "  He  began  to  shake  the  sleepers  in 
pit. 

"  Yes;  it's  a  fact.     Where  are  McGowan's  sharp-shooters  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  where  they  are  now,  but  you'll  hear  some- 
thing from  'em  before  day,  I  reckon." 

"  Where  are  your  sharp-shooters  ?  " 

"  Way  down  on  the  right." 

"  Is  Major  Young  down  there  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Wait  here  a  minute.  Say,  git  up  here,  Stevens  ;  go 
call  Sergeant  Hall." 

Sergeant  Hall  came.  I  reported  that  some  of  his  vedettes 
had  deserted. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  saw  'em,"  said  I.     "  I  was  out  in  front  and  saw  'em." 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  in  front  ?  " 

"Oh,  well,"  said  I,  "you  don't  reckon  a  man  would  be  out 

1  Babcock  to  Gen.  S.  Williams,  Dec.  31,  1864  :  "  Deserters  from  the  enemy 
came  in  last  evening  .  .  .  (from)  Scales's  brigade,  Wilcox's  division."  [Eo.] 


BERWICK'S  LAST  SERVICE  403 

there  for  fun,  do  you  ?  You'd  better  be  'tendin'  to  your  own 
business  now,  or  you'll  have  the  Yanks  down  on  you  in  no 
time,"  and  I  left  him. 

I  walked  to  the  right  for  a  short  time,  but  soon  diverged, 
going  to  the  rear,  toward  the  main  Confederate  lines.  It  was 
now  about  three  o'clock,  I  judged,  and  I  should  have  time  to 
look  inside  the  lines,  and  get  back  before  daylight.  I  had  gone 
perhaps  five  hundred  yards  when  I  heard  the  marching  of 
troops,  and  stopped,  in  order  to  hear  better.  The  sounds  con- 
tinued to  come  —  the  sounds  of  a  small  body  of  men  moving 
near  me  —  not  the  indistinct  murmur  of  a  division  far  away. 
Now  I  could  hear  a  voice,  but  no  movement,  and  I  knew  that  a 
halt  had  been  called  and  that  orders  were  being  given  in  low 
tones.  I  walked  toward  the  voice,  wondering  why  it  seemed 
to  sound  familiar. 

I  approached  a  short  line  of  men,  standing  with  their  backs 
to  me.  I  could  see  the  Confederate  intrenchments  just  beyond 
these  men.  Why  had  they  come  out  in  front  of  their  works  ? 
I  must  try  to  learn.  I  crept  up  close  and  lay  flat  behind  the 
ranks. 

"  Now,  men,  remember  what  I've  told  you ;  there  must  not 
be  a  shot  fired  until  you  hear  Scales's  battalion  charge ;  then 
go  in  with  a  rush.  Lieutenant  Hasell's  company  will  lead 
until  we  pass  our  pickets;  then  the  battalion  will  halt  and 
wait  for  the  word." 

I  needed  no  more  to  convince  me  that  a  serious  attempt  was 
to  be  made  upon  our  lines,  by  at  least  two  battalions  of  trained 
skirmishers.  The  purpose  of  this  night  attack  I  could  not  yet 
know ;  could  it  be  that  a  heavy  infantry  force  was  to  follow  ? 
I  must  find  out. 

In  two  minutes  I  stood  on  the  intrenchments ;  there,  all  was 
still ;  dimly  I  could  make  out  along  the  line,  irregular  rows  of 
such  huts  as  the  men  had  been  able  to  construct  —  huts  hardly 
worth  the  name,  little  better  than  the  open  winter  weather. 
Here,  behind  the  works,  was  no  sign  of  a  movement  —  no 


404       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

preparation  for  a  march.  And  now  I  cared  comparatively  little 
concerning  the  attack  of  the  battalions;  this  attack  could 
mean  nothing  more  than  a  surprise  of  the  picket-lines,  in  order, 
probably,  to  secure  prisoners  and  thereby  get  information  for 
General  Lee ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  my  main  duty  was  over 
and  done ;  I  had  seen  that  in  this  part  of  the  lines  there  was 
no  great  movement  going  on ;  not  having  anything  more  im- 
portant to  do,  I  would  get  back  as  quickly  as  possible,  that  I 
might  warn  those  New  York  people,  and,  through  them,  the 
whole  of  our  skirmish-line. 

So  I  hurried  back;  I  would  march  out  with  the  battalion 
through  the  picket-line,  and  then  drop  out  in  the  dark  and  get 
around  them,  for  I  knew  that  they  would  steal  up  close  before 
charging.  I  reached  the  place  where  I  had  left  the  sharp- 
shooters, and  heard  just  at  my  right  the  sound  of  their  march- 
ing; in  a  moment  I  was  following.  We  went  through  the 
picket-line  —  there  halted,  and  the  order  was  given,  not  by 
an  officer  but  from  man  to  man,  to  deploy;  I  was  in  the 
darkness  behind  the  men,  and  had  scarcely  been  able  to  hear 
the  order  as  it  passed  down  the  line. 

Now,  knowing  that  I  had  no  time  to  lose,  as  these  sixty 
men  would  make  a  line  of  three  hundred  yards,  I  set  off  at  as 
fast  a  gait  as  prudence  would  allow,  going  toward  the  right 
flank  of  the  skirmishers,  whose  advance  was  extremely  slow. 

In  the  still  night  there  was  not  a  sound,  except  of  my  own 
making.  Between  me  and  the  sky  I  could  catch  dim  outlines 
—  forms  of  men  slowly  stealing  on,  and  on,  toward  their  enemy 
sleeping ;  and  I  hurried  too  greatly,  for  I  fell  into  a  ditch  and 
was  long  in  getting  out,  so  that  when  at  last  I  was  on  the  flank 
of  the  skirmishers  they  were  near  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and 
I  heard  a  challenge  directed  at  me,  and  others  at  my  left 
directed  at  the  battalion,  and  then  a  shot  far  to  my  left 
where  Young's  battalion  of  Scales's  was  leading  the  assault ; 
and  then,  as  I  rushed  forward  risking  the  aim  of  the  sentinel, 
fire  spouted  from  sixty  rifles,  and  the  rebel  cry  rang  out  in  the 


BERWICK'S  LAST   SERVICE  405 

dark  morning  as  Dunlop's  line,  half  wheeling  to  the  right, 
swept  upon  the  rifle-pits  of  the  Ninth  New  York  artillery. 

I  had  reached  the  line  too  late ;  the  men  were  standing  in 
their  pits,  looking  stupid  and  frightened.  One  of  them,  seeing 
my  gray  uniform,  said  to  me,  "  We  give  up."  I  started  to  run ; 
my  foot  tripped  and  I  fell. 

One  moment  more  and  the  pit  was  filled  by  half  a  dozen  men 
in  gray,  each  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  each  seizing 
a  prisoner ;  in  a  second  others  came  on,  and  began  picking  up 
the  blankets,  knapsacks,  and  everything  else  lying  about,  and 
laughing  in  high  glee. 

"  Let  me  go !  "  I  cried  to  the  man  holding  me.  "  Don't  you 
see  your  mistake  ?  " 

"  Nary  mistake,  my  boy !  I  saw  you  ahead  of  us.  Hadn't 
be'n  for  you,  we'd  ha'  caught  a  heap  more.  Come  along.  You 
can't  fool  me  !  " 

I  struggled  to  get  away. 

"  Here ! "  he  shouted ;  "  Wade !  come  help  me  manage  this 
fellow,  or  I'll  have  to  kill  him ! " 

But  I  had  him  so  that  he  could  not  strike ;  I  continued  to 
struggle  and  desperation  lent  me  strength.  I  broke  away,  but 
for  an  instant  only ;  now  two  men  had  me  and  held  me  securely. 

The  Federal  prisoners  were  standing  at  the  fire.  More  were 
brought  up,  and  a  strong  guard  placed  over  them,  while  the 
battalion  was  cleaning  out  the  rifle-pits  for  half  a  mile  on  our 
left.  My  captors  still  held  me.  The  firing  had  ceased ;  there 
was  nothing  to  fire  at,  and  I  knew  that  these  fellows,  reckless 
as  they  were  —  for  it  now  developed  that  the  attack  had  been 
devised  for  no  other  purpose  than  getting  spoil l  —  would  never- 
theless be  compelled  to  withdraw  at  once ;  day  was  at  hand. 
How  bitterly  I  now  regretted  my  unavailing  struggles.  If  I 
had  only  kept  quiet,  I  could  yet  slip  away,  but  now  the  atten- 
tion of  all  was  upon  me,  and  I  must  endure  my  bitter  fate  — 

1  Major  Dnnlop,  Lee's  Sharp-shooters,  p.  228,  says,  "We  secured  all  the 
supplies  necessary  to  our  comfort  for  the  winter."  [ED.] 


406       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

a  fate  that  had  always  been  before  me  in  possibility,  yet  which, 
after  so  long  a  time,  I  knew  I  had  never  fully  admitted. 

At  sunrise  the  battalion  was  back  in  the  intrenchments.  The 
prisoners — almost  as  many  as  a  company  —  marched  under 
guard  in  the  rear,  and  I,  although  in  gray,  in  the  midst  of  them.1 
Yet  as  I  marched  along  under  the  gaze  of  McGowan's  brigade, 
I  tried  to  collect  whatever  mental  resources  were  left  me ;  I 
pulled  my  hat  over  my  brows,  and  lowered  my  head,  and  bent 
over  to  lessen  my  height,  hoping  yet  that  I  might  be  regarded 
as  one  of  many  prisoners  of  war.  But  the  closing  day  of  the 
year  was  not  my  day  ;  the  battalion  and  the  captives  marched 
through  crowds,  gathering  not  for  the  purpose  of  gazing  at  the 
unfortunate,  for  Federal  prisoners  were  a  common  sight  to  these 
soldiers  of  many  campaigns,  but  to  see  the  sharp-shooters  in 
whose  ranks  all  had  friends. 

"  By  grannies,  yonder's  Jones ! "  shouted  a  man,  —  Stokes  of 
Company  H. 

At  once  I  was  surrounded.  Some  of  the  men  shook  my  hand. 
Others  stood  aloof.  All  gazed  upon  me  as  men  look  upon  the 
miserable. 

1  From  Report  of  General  Wright,  Dec.  31,  1865.  "The  enemy  made  an 
attack  upon  my  picket-line  at  about  five  o'clock  and  succeeded  in  killing  two 
men  and  wounding  three.  Thirty-seven  are  reported  missing."  [ED.] 


XXXVII 

LIFE   OB   DEATH 

"  For  let  us  now,  like  soldiers  on  the  watch, 
Put  the  soul's  armour  on,  alike  prepared 
For  all  a  soldier's  warfare  brings." 

—  JOANNA  BAILLIB. 

THE  New  York  men  were  sent  away  —  where,  I  do  not  know.1 
I  was  placed  in  the  brigade  guard-house. 

At  sunset  visitors  came  —  two;  I  knew  them  well.  They 
were  the  captain  and  the  orderly-sergeant  of  Company  H. 

I  saluted  the  captain ;  Wilson  gave  me  his  hand. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  I ;  "  you  would  not  shake  hands  with  me 
the  last  time  I  saw  you ;  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Jones,"  said  Wilson,  "  you  know  I  didn't  have  time  then ; 
an'  you  come  so  sudden  like,  you  know.  I've  been  tellin'  the 
cap'n  about  that  —  and  he  hardly  believes  it  yet." 

"  When  was  it,  Jones  ?  "  asked  Captain  Barnwell,  looking  at 
me  narrowly. 

"  Twelfth  of  May,  sir." 

"  Why  was  it  I  did  not  see  you  ?  " 

" I  can't  tell  you,  sir ;  / saw  you" 

"  Did  any  one  else  besides  Sergeant  Wilson  see  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Sergeant  Mackay  shook  hands  with  me  just  be- 
fore he  was  killed ;  Promptly  saw  me  and  spoke  to  me.  The 
tree  fell  on  both  of  us." 

"  Where  had  you  come  from  ?  Where  had  you  been  since 
Bristoe  ?  " 

1They  were  confined  in  the  Libby  prison  in  Richmond.     [Eo.] 

407 


408       A  FEIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

My  mind  had  been  made  up  not  to  talk ;  I  could  see  no  good 
in  talking.  Wilson  had  of  old  been  a  good  friend  to  me.  He 
knew  that  I  had  been  in  the  ranks  of  the  company  at  the 
Bloody  Angle;  he  could  believe  that  I  had  just  returned  from 
prison,  or  from  a  forced  absence — forced  by  any  one  of  many 
causes.  Wilson  was  my  friend,  but  the  captain  ?  Would  not 
his  office  compel  him  to  be  my  enemy  ?  Better  not  commit 
myself. 

"  Why  am  I  under  arrest,  Captain  ?    What  are  the  charges  ?  " 

"  Desertion,  my  poor  fellow ;  desertion  to  the  enemy !  " 

"  And  who  makes  these  charges  ?  " 

"  I ;  I  am  forced  to  make  them." 

"  Then  you  must  excuse  me  for  keeping  my  own  counsel,  sir." 

"  Of  course,  Jones ;  just  as  you  wish ;  but  I  don't  want  to  be 
hard  on  you,  and  I  shall  be  truly  glad  if  you  can  disprove  the 
charges;  if  you  could  convince  me  that  they  are  not  true,  I 
would  willingly  withdraw  them." 

"When  will  my  case  come  up,  Captain?" 

"  There  is  no  saying,  Jones ;  the  regular  corps  court  martial 
has  much  to  do ;  it  is  in  session  almost  constantly,  yet  there  is 
a  rule  of  war,  I  believe,  to  try  a  case  in  eight  days." 

"  I  cannot  get  ready  in  that  time,  Captain." 

"  I  suppose  you  can  get  a  delay." 

"  Who  is  the  judge-advocate  ?  " 

"Captain  Cothran  —  you  ought  to  remember  him  —  Orr's 
Rifles." 

"  Shall  I  be  allowed  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Whether  he  has  the  time  I  do  not  know ;  but  you  ought  to 
try,  and  in  any  case,  you  may  write  to  him." 

"  Where  shall  I  address  him  ?  " 

"His  regiment,  or  the  court  —  which  sits  in  Petersburg; 
Halifax  Street  —  either  address  will  do.  Now,  Jones,  we  must 
go.  Yours  is  the  first  case  of  the  kind  in  Company  H,  and 
I  hope  your  case  is  stronger  than  it  looks  on  the  surfaca 
Good-by." 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  409 

Wilson  again  wrung  my  hand,  and  swore  that  he  would  do 
all  he  could  to  help  nie  —  he  would  come  again  on  the  next  day. 

But  the  next  day  brought  a  great  change.  This  was  the  day, 
January  1,  1865,  —  postponed  from  Christmas  because  of  fail- 
ure then,  —  on  which  the  ladies  of  Richmond  gave  a  dinner  to 
Lee's  starving  army.  As  I  was  led  under  guard  through  the 
lines  of  huts  behind  the  intrenchments,  men  were  jesting, 
laughing,  grumbling,  cursing,  about  one  absorbing  subject — the 
dinner  had  been  distributed  and  had  been  found  to  be  very 
scant. 

My  guards  led  me  to  Petersburg,  where  I  was  confined  with 
many  others  accused  of  crime;  thence,  a  few  days  later,  I  was 
sent  to  Richmond  by  rail  and  placed  in  Castle  Thunder.  I 
had  a  little  money  and  found  some  favour  with  Sergeant 
Hamby  —  who  commanded  the  prison  guards  —  so  that  I  did 
not  suffer  greatly.  I  was  allowed  to  purchase  blankets,  food, 
and  materials  for  writing.  Hamby,  however,  was  proof  against 
every  attempt  made  to  induce  him  to  deliver  letters  to  my 
friends  in  Richmond.  While  in  the  guard-house  at  Peters- 
burg I  had  written  to  the  judge-advocate ;  I  gave  him  the 
strength  of  my  case,  without  divulging  my  real  history,  and 
begged  him  to  see  that  my  witnesses  were  ready. 

I  was  surprised  when  I  received  a  reply.  Captain  Cothran 
wrote  that  the  court  was  greatly  pressed  with  business ;  that 
an  Article  of  War  required  the  trial  to  proceed  within  eight 
days,  but  in  that  short  time  he  had  no  hope  of  being  able  to 
find  some  of  my  witnesses ;  he  left  it  with  me  entirely,  without 
advising,  whether  I  should  waive  my  right.  I  answered  this 
letter  with  one  line,  leaving  the  matter  entirely  in  his  hands. 
******* 

On  the  morning  of  the  22d  of  March,  Sergeant  Hamby  came 
into  my  room.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  unusually  seri- 
ous ;  in  his  hand  he  held  a  pencil  and  piece  of  paper. 

«  Well,  out  with  it !  "  said  I. 

"  You  take  it  uncommonly  cool,"  he  returned. 


410       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"Take  what  cool?" 

"  Your  trial  is  set  for  to-morrow." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Here  is  a  paper  for  you." 

I  read  the  perfunctory  order  commanding  the  presence  of 
B.  Jones,  Company  H,  First  South  Carolina  Volunteers,  before 
a  corps  court  martial  on  the  charge  of  desertion  to  the  enemy. 

The  sergeant  had  taken  a  seat  on  his  heels,  leaning  against 
the  wall. 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  in  Petersburg  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Got  to  walk  ?  " 

"No,  no." 

"  When  am  I  to  go  ?  " 

"  To-day  at  twelve  o'clock  a  guard  will  come  for  you.  What 
counsel  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Counsel  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  they  always  allow  you  counsel." 

"  I  have  nobody ;  I  want  nobody." 

"  Expect  to  manage  your  own  defence  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Got  any  witnesses  ?  " 

"  A  cloud  of  'em  if  they're  not  all  killed.  Say,  Hamby,  don't 
you  fret  about  me.  I'm  going  to  win  this  thing." 

"  By  George !  I'm  glad  to  see  you  so  hopeful.  Better  take 
your  blankets ;  it's  mighty  cold." 

At  noon  I  was  marched  to  the  depot,  where  I  was  hustled 
into  a  freight  car.  At  two  o'clock  I  was  hustled  out  —  the 
train  having  reached  its  destination  —  and  then  hustled  into 
the  guard-house  in  Petersburg.  Water  and  food,  were  brought 
to  me.  But  for  my  own  blankets,  I  should  have  frozen. 

My  senses  were  alert ;  my  mind  was  set  on  preserving  my 
life  by  making  a  strong  case  before  the  court.  I  knew  that  I 
was  guilty  technically,  but  morally  innocent.  To  make  that 
court  believe  me  innocent  was  all  my  thought. 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  411 

The  trial  was  to  begin  at  nine  o'clock ;  I  was  ready  at  six ; 
the  minutes  seemed  eternal.  When  I  was  at  last  conducted 
to  the  court-room,  and  found  myself  standing  before  my  judges, 
all  nervousness  left  me  —  left  me  clear  and  cool. 

One  of  the  officers  I  knew  to  be  Captain  Cothran,  of  Orr's 
Rifles,  McGowan's  brigade ;  the  others  were  unknown  to  me. 

"The  accused  will  be  seated  here,"  said  Captain  Cothran, 
the  judge-advocate.  I  sat  at  a  small  table  in  front  of  the 
officers,  who  were  around  a  large  table.  I  looked  about  me ; 
the  room  was  pretty  well  filled ;  I  saw  men  of  Company  H ; 
Wilson  was  there,  and  Albert  Youmans,  and  Jerry  Butler. 

The  charges  and  specifications  were  read  by  the  judge-advo- 
cate in  a  monotonous  rush.  I  was  accused  of  having  deserted 
Company  H  on  the  morning  of  October  12th,  1863,  and  having 
given  aid  and  counsel  to  the  enemy. 

"  Guilty  or  not  guilty  ?  "  demanded  the  judge-advocate. 

I  rose  and  responded,  "  Not  guilty,  sir." 

"Take  your  seat,"  said  an  officer;  I  supposed  he  was  the 
president.  His  tones  indicated  neither  compassion  nor  un- 
kindness. 

"  Have  you  provided  counsel  ?  "  asked  the  judge-advocate. 

I  rose  and  replied  that  I  had  not,  and  asked  permission  to 
defend  my  own  case. 

"  You  have  that  right,"  said  the  president. 

There  were  seven  officers  before  me ;  I  counted  them  many 
times. 

From  a  semicircle  came  sounds,  incessantly,  of  artillery 
firing,  —  south,  east,  northeast. 

The  officers  of  the  court  took  the  oath  to  try  the  case, — 
the  customary  oath. 

John  Wilson  was  called  and  sworn. 

He  gave  his  position  as  orderly-sergeant,  Company  H,  First 
South  Carolina. 

I  had  never  before  seen  a  court  martial,  but  I  had  seen  the 
workings  of  a  civil  court,  and  as  the  case  progressed  I  became 


412       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

aware  of  a  great  difference ;  Captain  Cothran  seemed  almost 
as  much  on  my  side  as  on  that  of  the  Government.  He  drew 
from  Wilson  testimony  against  me  and  for  me.  With  many 
interruptions  because  of  questions,  Wilson  spoke  as  follows :  — 

"  I  recognize  the  accused  as  B.  Jones,  —  never  knew  what 
the  B  was  for,  —  of  Company  H,  First  South  Carolina  Volun- 
teers. He  was  wounded  at  Gaines's  Mill,  —  a  severe  wound. 
We  were  all  greatly  surprised  when  he  returned  to  duty  as 
we  were  starting  on  the  march  to  Manassas ;  everybody  saw 
that  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  march;  he  had  left  the 
hospital  too  early.  He  got  very  sick,  and  Captain  Haskell 
tried  to  get  a  place  in  an  ambulance  for  him,  but  could  not  do 
it.  Jones  caught  up  again  before  the  battle.  Captain  Haskell 
thought  a  great  deal  of  Jones;  he  took  him  into  the  sharp- 
shooters and  gave  him  a  sergeant's  place  there.  After  Gettys- 
burg the  accused  became  gloomy ;  I  could  see  it  was  because 
Captain  Haskell  had  been  killed.  Some  of  the  men  thought 
Jones  was  losing  his  mind.  He  was  missing  about  the  middle 
of  the  Bristoe  campaign.  I  expected  him  back,  because,  once 
before  that,  he  had  been  away  from  us  a  long  time  and  came 
back." 

"  When  was  that  ?  "  asked  the  president. 

"  He  was  expected  to  die  at  Fredericksburg,  in  December, 
sixty-two.  He  was  not  in  that  battle ;  we  left  him  sick  and 
heard  nothing  more  of  him  for  months,  but  he  returned  all 
right." 

"  When  did  you  learn  that  he  was  missing  ? "  asked  the 
judge-advocate. 

"  About  October  twentieth,  I  think,  sixty-three.  I  was  not 
then  orderly-sergeant." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  last  before  he  was  arrested  ?  " 

"  On  the  twelfth  of  last  May,  sir." 

All  the  officers  looked  up  at  this,  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"  Tell  the  circumstances  fully." 

"  It  was  at  the  Bloody  Angle.    We  were  in  the  breastworks ; 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  413 

the  Yankees  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  breastworks.  All  at 
once  a  man  came  up  to  me  and  wanted  to  shake  hands.  I  knew 
he  was  Jones.  I  made  him  get  into  ranks.  Where  he  came 
from  I  don't  know." 

A  long  pause  followed.  I  could  see  curiosity  in  the  faces  of 
my  judges. 

At  last  Captain  Cothran  said,  "  Look  carefully  at  the  accused." 

"  I  know  him,  sir,"  said  Wilson. 

"  Is  he  the  same  person  you  saw  at  the  Bloody  Angle  ?  " 

"  I'd  swear  to  him,  sir,  on  a  stack  o'  Bibles." 

"  Did  any  of  your  men  see  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Who?" 

"  Owens  and  Kothwell." 

"  Are  they  here  ?  " 

"  Owens  has  never  been  seen,  sir,  since  that  day.  I  reckon 
he  was  killed  there.  But  Eothwell  is  here." 

The  judge-advocate  looked  at  his  papers. 

"All  right,"  said  he;  "we  have  Eoth well's  name  as  a  wit- 
ness for  the  accused.  Has  the  court  any  questions  to  ask  this 
witness  ?  " 

The  president  asked  Wilson  one  question.  "  Was  B.  Jones 
of  Company  H,  an  indifferent  soldier,  a  poor  soldier,  or  a  good 
soldier  ?  " 

Wilson  blurted  out:  "I  will  say  this  much  for  him.  Com- 
pany H  didn't  have  a  better  man  in  it — then  or  now." 

The  judge-advocate  then  said :  "  The  accused  has  the  right 
to  question  the  witness."  I  shook  my  head :  Wilson's  testi- 
mony had  been  favourable,  and  I  feared  to  alter  it  in  the  least. 
I  felt  that  the  court  was  not  hostile  to  me. 

Captain  Barnwell  was  sworn ;  he  testified  that  I  was  B.  Jones, 
and  that  I  had  .been  missing  from  his  company  since  October 
12th,  1863.  He  had  never  seen  me  again  until  I  had  been 
brought  into  the  lines  by  the  sharp-shooters.  I  had  been  a  good 
soldier,  but  very  peculiar  in  some  things. 


414        A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

Two  men  whom  I  did  not  know  swore  that  they  had  taken 
me  in  company  with  the  Yankees  on  the  morning  of  Decem- 
ber 31st.  One  of  them  swore  that  he  saw  me  in  a  Federal  rifle- 
pit  before  he  reached  it,  and  that  I  was  trying  to  wake  the 
men.  This  evidence  brought  a  smile  to  some  of  the  officers' 
faces. 

Lieutenant  C.  M.  Chappell  was  sworn.  He  testified  that  his 
men  had  captured  me  in  The  Wilderness,  in  November,  1863, 
and  that  I  had  afterward  escaped  —  that  at  that  time  I  was  in 
Federal  uniform  and  unarmed.  He  had  seen  me  afterward  in 
June,  1864,  some  six  miles  south  of  White  House,  that  time 
in  Confederate  uniform,  armed  and  mounted. 

"Do  you  know  him  to  be  the  same  man  you  had  in  The 
Wilderness  ?  "  asked  the  judge-advocate. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  positively  identify  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Why  did  you  not  arrest  him  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  recognize  him  at  first,  sir,  and  when  I  did,  he 
resisted.  I  pursued  him  but  could  not  overtake  him." 

"  When  you  had  him  in  The  Wilderness,  why  did  you  not 
keep  him  ?  "  asked  the  president. 

"  Well,  sir,  he  pretended  to  be  exhausted  and  speechless.  I 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  him.  He  was  guarded  poorly, 
and  got  away." 

"Pretended,  you  say?  Did  you  consider  him  an  unwilling 
prisoner,  or  a  deserter  —  which  ?  " 

The  witness  hesitated. 

"Answer  the  question,  sir,"  said  the  president,  who,  I  had 
by  this  time  learned,  was  Colonel  Cantwell,  of  the  Fourth  North 
Carolina  cavalry. 

"I  thought  him  a  deserter;  and  I  continued  to  think  so 
until  I  saw  him  afterward." 

"  Did  he  confess  he  was  the  same  man  ?  "  asked  the  president. 

"No,  sir,  he  did  not." 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  415 

"  Did  he  profess  to  be  a  Confederate  ?  " 

"No;  he  made  no  assertion  as  to  that,  but  he  claimed  to 
have  helped  my  brother  off  the  field  at  Riddell's  Shop." 

"  What  is  your  brother's  name  ?  "  asked  Captain  Cothran, 
fumbling  with  his  papers. 

"  Osborn  Chappell ;  he  belongs  to  the  Twelfth  South  Caro- 
lina,—  McGowan's  brigade.  He  has  written  to  me  that  he 
was  wounded  at  Riddell's  Shop,  and  was  helped  by  a  man 
named  Jones,  but  I  have  not  seen  Osborn  in  a  year." 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  said  the  judge-advocate,  "  I  wish 
these  brothers  to  confront  each  other." 

"If  there  is  no  objection,"  said  the  president,  "you  may 
have  it  done,  but  you'd  better  get  through  with  the  govern- 
ment's witnesses  first." 

To  my  great  surprise  and  terror,  Captain  R.  S.  Owen  was 
called  and  sworn.  He  had  not  been  in  the  room,  and  I  now 
saw  him  for  the  first  time  since  June,  1864.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  very  handsome  uniform ;  the  gilt  braid  on  his  arms  con- 
trasted with  the  faded  ornaments  of  the  other  officers  present. 
He  refused  to  meet  my  eye. 

He  gave  his  name  and  position  as  Captain  R.  S.  Owen,  First 
Maryland  cavalry. 

His  testimony  was  very  long,  but  the  court  showed  no 
impatience;  evidently  the  case  had  become  interesting. 

Owen  swore  that  my  name  was  Berwick  —  that  he  had  known 
me  as  a  Federal  serving  General  Meade  himself.  I  wondered 
how  he  could  thus  betray  his  own  duplicity,  but  the  idea  did 
not  seem  to  trouble  the  court;  I  supposed  that  Owen  was 
known  to  the  officers,  and  that  he  counted  on  honours  rather 
than  disgrace.  He  was  sure  that  the  accused  was  named  Ber- 
wick. He  had  known  me  to  be  a  Federal  soldier,  first  as  a 
private  in  the  Eleventh  Massachusetts  infantry. 

"  When  did  you  know  him  in  that  capacity  ? "  asked  the 
president. 

Owen  said  that  his  acquaintance  with  me  had  not  begun 


416       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

until  I  had  left  the  Eleventh,  but  that  he  had  certain  knowl- 
edge of  my  having  been  in  that  regiment.  He  had  seen  the 
accused  dressed  as  a  Confederate,  and  as  a  Federal.  He  had 
never  seen  Berwick  before  October,  1863  —  about  the  18th. 

The  judge-advocate  asked  the  witness  if  he  could  bring  any 
corroboration  to  his  testimony. 

"Yes,"  replied  Owen;  "I  have  in  my  possession  a  written 
order  of  General  Meade's  in  regard  to  the  accused." 

"  Produce  it  before  the  court,"  said  Captain  Cothran. 

Owen  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  brought  out  a  button. 

I  felt  that  I  was  lost. 

"  This  button,"  said  the  witness,  "  contains  a  paper  written 
by  General  Meade.  The  man  who  devised  this  hiding-place 
devised  at  the  same  time  an  instrument  with  which  tp  open  it. 
I  have  lost  that  instrument;  I  ask  the  court  to  break  the 
button." 

The  judge-advocate  took  the  button  from  the  hands  of  the 
witness  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

The  attempts  of  the  officers  to  preserve  their  gravity  dis- 
torted it ;  their  gaze  went  from  Scranton  to  the  button ;  from 
the  button  to  me;  from  me  to  Captain  Cothran  and  to  each 
other ;  they  were  silent. 

From  without  came  the  roar  of  cannon.  The  judge-advocate 
called  a  soldier  and  took  his  bayonet  from  the  scabbard.  He 
looked  at  the  president ;  the  president  nodded. 

The  judge-advocate  held  the  bayonet  by  the  blade ;  he  struck 
the  button  with  the  hilt  of  the  bayonet.  The  button  rolled  a 
little  way ;  it  did  not  break. 

The  judge-advocate  struck  again  and  harder ;  the  button  was 
shivered. 

"  Produce  the  paper,"  said  Captain  Cothran. 

Scranton's  face  was  unmoved;  the  officers  sank  back  into 
their  seats ;  one  of  them  rose,  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 
took  out  a  knife,  sat  down,  bent  over,  and  began  sharpening  a 
pencil. 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  417 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Scranton,  calmly  and  emphatically,  "there 
is  an  order  from  General  Meade  in  a  button.  There  are  four 
buttons  alike.  No  man  can  tell  one  from  another.  I  have 
simply  made  a  mistake  and  have  picked  out  the  wrong  button." 

"Produce  the  other  buttons,"  said  Captain  Cothran. 

Hope  in  me  had  turned  to  bitter  despair. 

The  judge-advocate  brought  the  bayonet  down  on  the  second 
button. 

The  button  was  thrown  into  a  corner ;  it  was  picked  up  and 
again  laid  on  the  table.  It  proved  to  be  of  brass. 

The  third  button  was  flattened  on  the  table. 

The  fourth  and  last  button  lay  under  the  uplifted  bayonet. 

The  bayonet  descended. 

The  button  shivered. 

A  sudden  vertigo  seized  me ;  my  head  sank  to  my  knees ;  it 
was  death. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Scranton,  triumphantly,  "here  is  the 
order !  Read  it  for  yourselves." 

The  officers  fingered  the  pieces  of  the  broken  buttons. 

"Read  the  order,"  said  the  president  to  the  judge-advocate. 

The  judge-advocate  read  aloud,  and  slowly,  as  if  he  were 
deciphering  a  writing  almost  illegible :  — 

"HEADQUARTERS  AHMT  OF  THE  POTOMAC, 

"October  17, 1863. 
"SPECIAL  ORDER. 

"  Private  J.  Berwick,  Company  D,  llth  Massachusetts  Volunteers,  is 
hereby  relieved  from  further  duty  with  his  company.  All  pickets  will 
pass  him. 

"GEORGE  G.  MEADE,  Major-General  Commanding" 

While  these  words  were  sounding  slowly  and  monotonously, 
the  officer  holding  the  gauze-like  shred  of  paper  at  a  peculiar 
angle  to  the  light,  a  glimmering  thought  awoke  in  my  brain : 
could  I  not  turn  this  thing  to  my  advantage  9 

"  Does  the  accused  wish  to  question  the  witness  ?  " 


418       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

With  great  effort  I  responded,  "  Yes,"  forced  myself  to  my 
feet  and  leaned  on  the  table. 

"  I  wish  the  witness  to  state  to  the  court,"  said  I,  "  when, 
and  under  what  circumstances  he  first  saw  J.  Berwick." 

Scranton  did  not  reply. 

"  Answer,"  said  the  president. 

"  I  saw  him  first  on  the  night  of  the  seventeenth  of  October, 
sixty-three." 

"  Where  was  this  ?  " 

"  Near  Centreville ;  in  the  presence  of  General  Meade." 

"  Was  he  an  utter  stranger  to  you  ?  That  is,  had  you  no 
intimation  of  his  previous  service  in  the  Massachusetts  regi- 
ment ?  " 

"General  Meade  himself  told  me  that  Berwick  had  previ- 
ously served  in  a  Massachusetts  regiment." 

"  Can  you  say  how  long  he  had  served  in  the  Massachusetts 
regiment  ?  " 

"  I  can  only  say  that  Berwick  told  me  afterward  that  he  had 
enlisted  in  it  at  the  opening  of  the  war ;  he  had  been  at  both 
battles  of  Manassas,  he  said." 

"  Can  you  swear  positively  that  J.  Berwick  had  ever  been  a 
soldier  in  the  Confederate  army  before  you  saw  him  ?  " 

The  witness  hesitated,  and  then  said,  "  I  cannot." 

I  sat  down. 

"Do  you  know  what  J  stands  for  before  Berwick  in  this 
order  ?  "  asked  the  judge-advocate. 

"  It  is  the  initial  letter  of  the  name  Jones,"  said  Scranton, 
and  my  new  hopes  fled. 

But  Colonel  Cantwell  said,  with  something  like  heat  in  his 
tones :  — 

"  Witness,  you  have  not  answered  the  question  properly ;  the 
court  was  already  aware  that  Jones  begins  with  a  J." 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  replied  the  witness ;  " '  in  the  gross 
and  scope  of  my  opinion,'  I  gave  a  definite  answer :  I  was  asked 
what  a  certain  J  stands  for;  there  are  many  J's  in  the  world." 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  419 

The  president  frowned.  Scranton  had  had  the  best  of  it  in 
the  clash  of  words,  but  had  not  helped  his  cause.  The  presi- 
dent became  alert. 

"  Do  you  know  Jones  Berwick  and  B.  Jones  to  be  one  and 
the  same  person,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  president. 

"I  do  not,"  said  the  witness,  "unless  the  accused  is  B. 
Jones." 

"Then,  Mr.  Judge-Advocate,  it  seems  that  this  witness's 
testimony  is  hardly  relevant,"  said  the  president. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  judge-advocate ;  "  I  think  I  can  show 
through  this  witness  that  there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  as 
to  the  identity  of  Berwick  with  Jones.  Captain  Owen,  have 
you  ever  seen  the  Federal  Jones  Berwick  dressed  as  a  Confed- 
erate ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I  see  him  so  dressed  now;  but  to  answer  your 
question  as  it  is  intended,  I  will  say  that  on  the  fifteenth  of 
last  June,  I  not  only  saw  him  in  Confederate  uniform,  but 
that  he  led  an  attack  upon  me  on  that  day." 

"The  accused  may  question  the  witness,"  said  the  judge- 
advocate. 

"  Did  Berwick,  dressed  in  Confederate  uniform,  admit  that 
he  was  a  Federal  soldier  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  There  was  no  necessity  for  such  admission ;  he  knew  that 
I  knew  him." 

Then  I  said :  "  The  witness  has  stated  that  Berwick,  as  a 
Confederate,  attacked  him,  a  Confederate.  For  one  Confed- 
erate to  attack  another  is  not  warfare.  Will  the  witness 
explain  ?  " 

"  The  party  he  led  were  openly  Federals,"  said  Scranton. 

"  You  have  said  that  when  you  first  saw  Berwick  he  was  in 
General  Meade's  presence.  Were  you  a  prisoner  ?  " 

"  It  is  well  known  that  I  went  into  the  Federal  army,  but 
was,  while  there,  serving  the  Confederate  States." 

I  sat  down.  I  must  seem  to  be  confused  by  Scranton's  last 
answer. 


420       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

But  the  president  took  up  the  case. 

"Did  Berwick  know  that  you  were  in  the  service  of  the 
Confederate  States  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  cannot  say  positively,"  was  the  answer. 

At  this  reply  I  recovered,  and  being  permitted,  continued  to 
question  the  witness. 

"  I  wish  the  witness  to  state  fully  the  circumstances  in 
which  he  saw  Jones  Berwick  first,  after  the  witness  left  the 
Federal  army." 

"  The  witness  will  reply,"  said  the  president. 

"  I  saw  him  on  the  twenty-first  of  May.  I  was  then  near 
Milford  Station.  The  accused  brought  a  party  of  Federal 
cavalry  upon  my  post  and  pursued  us  to  the  river  —  the  Mat- 
tapony.  We  were  fired  on  many  times.  My  party  was  scat- 
tered, and  I  myself  wounded  and  almost  drowned  in  the  river. 
It  was  a  miracle  that  I  escaped.  Afterward,  while  slowly 
recovering  from  my  wounds,  I  saw  the  accused  at  the  house 
of  a  friend  who  had  given  me  refuge." 

"State  to  the  court  where  and  when  you  then  saw  Jones 
Berwick  ?  " 

"  It  was  in  King  William  County,  in  the  rear  of  the  Federal 
army,  some  miles  distant  from  Hanovertown.  On  the  night 
of  the  twenty-eighth  of  May,  sixty-four,  he  came  to  this  house. 
I  did  not  see  him  come  to  it,  but  I  saw  him  leave  it.  He 
was  then  on  his  way  to  White  House,  on  what  mission  I 
know  not." 

"  When  did  you  next  see  Jones  Berwick  ?  " 

"  At  the  same  house  he  appeared  again  on  the  night  of  the 
fourteenth  of  June,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  on  the  morning 
of  the  fifteenth,  as  it  was  past  midnight,  nearly  day,  when  I 
learned  of  his  presence.  He  led  a  body  of  Federal  cavalry 
in  an  attack  upon  the  house  in  which  I  was  yet  laid  up 
by  my  wounds.  The  house  was  taken  by  force,  and  he  made 
me  his  prisoner.  Several  of  my  friends  were  killed  or 
wounded.  Later  in  the  day  others  of  my  friends  rescued  me 


LIFE   OR  DEATH  421 

while  I  was  being  taken  under  guard  to  the  Federal  post  at 
White  House." 

"  And  you  saw  him  no  more  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him  again.  My  friends  got  me  that  night  to 
the  south  of  the  Pamunkey,  and  secured  a  carriage,  in  which 
to  take  me  to  Richmond.  On  the  next  evening,  near  Bottom's 
Bridge,  my  carriage  was  waylaid  by  a  party  of  armed  men ;  a 
distinguished  companion  by  my  side  was  maltreated  and  so 
injured  that  for  a  long  time  I  thought  he  was  dead,  and  I 
myself  dragged  into  the  Chickahominy  swamp,  and  held  as  a 
prisoner  by  the  accused." 

"You  are  sure  he  was  serving  at  the  time  as  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  Confederates  were  near  by.  He  could  have  taken 
me  to  them  at  any  hour.  At  the  time,  the  Federal  cavalry 
were  north  of  the  Pamunkey." 

"  Was  he,  while  dressed  as  a  Confederate,  within  the  Con- 
federate lines  ?  " 

"  At  the  time  I  am  speaking  of  he  was  in  no  lines  at  all." 

"  Did  he  do  you  any  injury  ?  " 

"None;  except  what  might  be  claimed  as  necessary.  He 
kept  me  under  guard  in  the  Chickahominy  swamp,  moving 
down  it  for  a  week.  He  and  his  party  feared  to  leave  the 
swamp  lest  the  Confederates  should  come  upon  them.  On  the 
twenty-third  of  June  he  delivered  me  to  Gregg's  column  of 
Federal  cavalry,  which  was  then  marching  from  White  House 
to  the  south  of  the  James.  On  the  twenty-fourth,  near 
Charles  City  Court-House,  Gregg's  cavalry  was  attacked  by 
General  Hampton  and  defeated.  In  the  stampede  I  was  left 
without  guard,  and  the  Confederates  picked  me  up." 

"You  have  said  that  Berwick  led  the  party  of  cavalry 
against  you  at  Mil  ford  Station.  Can  you  state  positively  that 
the  man  who  led  the  party  was  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  He  was  Berwick,  and  Berwick  is  a  Federal." 

"  Was  the  man  who  led  the  party  at  Milf  ord  Station  dressed 
as  a  Confederate  or  a  Federal  ?  " 


422       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  I  was  not  near  enough  to  know  positively." 

"  Do  you  know  that  the  party  of  cavalry  who  pursued  you 
at  Milford  Station  were  Federals  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  from  the  wounds  I  received." 

"  Was  the  man  who  you  say  left  the  house  in  King  William 
County  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  May  dressed  as  a  Confeder- 
ate or  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  He  was  dressed  as  a  Federal." 

"  Was  the  man  that  you  say  led  the  attack  on  that  house  on 
the  morning  of  the  fifteenth  of  June  dressed  as  a  Federal 
or  a  Confederate  ?  " 

"  He  was  dressed  as  a  Confederate." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  the  man  dressed  as  a  Confederate,  and 
the  man  dressed  as  a  Federal  were  one  and  the  same  person  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  Were  your  friends  who  defended  you  in  the  house  in  King 
William  County  Federals  or  Confederates  ?  " 

"  They  were  neither." 

"Were  your  friends  who  were  with  you  at  Milford  Confed- 
erates or  Federals  ?  " 

"  They  were  neither." 

"Was  the  leader  of  the  party  who  assaulted  your  carriage 
dressed  as  a  Confederate  or  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  He  was  dressed  as  a  Confederate." 

"  Were  the  men  under  his  command  dressed  as  Confederates 
or  Federals  ?  " 

The  witness  refused  to  answer.  The  court  ordered  the 
room  cleared.  When  the  doors  were  reopened,  the  judge- 
advocate  said :  — 

"  It  is  decreed  by  the  court  that  you  answer  the  last  ques- 
tion of  the  accused." 

"  I  asked  you,"  said  I,  "  whether  the  men  under  command 
of  the  leader  who  assaulted  your  carriage  were  dressed  as 
Confederates  or  Federals  ?  " 

"The  carriage  was  stopped  in  the  night,"  said  Scranton. 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  423 

"  I  could  not  see  without.  Suddenly  the  curtain  was  thrown 
aside,  and  a  voice  demanded  my  surrender,  exclaiming  that  I 
was  surrounded.  My  companion  fired  a  pistol.  The  accused, 
in  retaliation,  I  must  admit,  stunned  my  companion  with  a 
blow.  His  body  fell  on  me  and  prevented  me  from  making 
resistance ;  besides,  my  worst  wound  had  not  yet  healed.  I 
fancied,  in  the  darkness,  that  I  had  fallen  into  a  powerful 
ambuscade,  and  I  could  do  nothing  but  surrender.  When  I 
could  at  last  see  outside  of  the  carriage  I  could  see  that 
Berwick  had  but  one  follower  —  a  negro." 

"  Was  the  negro  dressed  as  a  Confederate  or  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  He  had  on  no  uniform,"  said  Scranton,  scowling. 

"  How  long  did  you  say  that  this  single  Confederate,  or  Fed- 
eral, or  whatever  he  was  —  this  Berwick  —  held  you  a  prisoner 
in  the  Chickahominy  swamp?  " 

"Seven  days." 

"  With  what  was  Berwick  armed  ?  " 

"  He  had  a  rifle  and  pistols  taken  from  the  carriage.  With 
one  of  the  pistols  he  armed  the  negro." 

"  During  these  seven  days  how  did  Berwick  sustain  his  pris- 
oners ?  What  seemed  to  be  his  source  of  supply  ?  " 

"  The  first  day  he  had  the  provisions  captured  with  the  car- 
riage. Afterward  the  negro  was  sent  foraging  every  day." 

"  How  many  persons  did  Berwick  have  in  his  charge  ?  " 

"Two;  myself  and  one  other." 

"  When  the  negro  was  absent  foraging,  did  Berwick  alone 
guard  his  two  prisoners  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Berwick  had  no  other  help  than  this  negro  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  could  see." 

"  While  in  the  swamp  you  saw  no  one  else  at  all  ?  " 

"  I  saw  one  man." 

"  Was  this  man  dressed  as  a  Confederate  or  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  He  was  dressed  as  a  Confederate." 

"Who  was  he?" 


424       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  The  witness  will  state  the  circumstances  fully,"  said  the 
president. 

"  The  day  that  the  accused  delivered  me  to  the  Federals,  a 
wounded  cavalryman,  a  Confederate  no  doubt,  rode  up  to  the 
accused.  They  talked  together,  but  I  could  not  hear  what  was 
said.  The  accused  attended  to  the  wound,  I  think;  then  he 
helped  the  man  on  his  horse  and  the  man  rode  off.  That  is  all 
I  know  about  it." 

"  The  accused  will  continue,"  said  the  president. 

"  How  was  Berwick  armed  ?    With  what  sort  of  rifle  ?  " 

"  He  was  armed  with  an  Enfield  rifle." 

Then  the  president  said,  "  You  say  that  you  were  attached 
to  General  Meade's  army  in  some  capacity  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  are  familiar  with  the  arms  of  the  Federal  army  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  in  some  degree." 

"  Have  you  noticed  many  Enfield  rifles  in  the  hands  of  Fed- 
eral infantry  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  very  few.  They  are  almost  all  armed  with  Spring- 
fields." 

"  You  are  understood  to  say  that  the  accused,  when  he  at- 
tacked your  carriage  with  an  Enfield  rifle,  and  while  he  held 
you  prisoner  in  the  Chickahominy  swamp,  was  in  Confederate 
uniform." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  are  understood  to  say  that  when  you  were  attacked  at 
Milford,  and  afterward  when  you  were  attacked  and  rescued 
in  King  William  County,  that  your  friends  who  assisted  you 
were  neither  Federals  nor  Confederates.  Who  were  they  ?  " 

"  They  were  men,  sir ;  my  friends ;  not  enlisted  men  of 
either  army,  sir." 

"  Were  they  armed  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  With  what  were  they  armed  ?  " 


LIFE  OR  DEATH  425 

"I  would  be  unable  to  describe  their  arms,  sir.  Some  had 
carbines  and  pistols ;  others  had  what  suited  their  fancy." 

"  Were  they  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  Confederates  or  Fed- 
erals, or  any  uniform  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Were  they  mounted  men  ?  That  is  to  say,  did  they  have 
horses  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Were  they  the  farmers  of  the  neighbourhood  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  Did  they  receive  pay  for  their  services  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Who  paid  them  ?  Were  they  paid  by  the  United  States, 
or  were  they  paid  by  the  Confederate  States  ?  " 

"  By  neither,  sir." 

"The  court  understands  you  to  say  then  that  these  men 
under  your  command  were  living  on  the  booty  that  you  could 
take.  Were  they  partisan  rangers  regularly  enlisted  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  and  they  were  not  living  on  booty." 

"  Who  paid  them  ?  " 

"  I  paid  them,  sir." 

"  And  how  did  you  derive  the  means  for  paying  them  ?  " 

The  witness  refused  to  answer.  The  court  ordered  the  room 
cleared.  When  the  doors  were  reopened,  the  judge-advocate 
announced  that  the  court  had  decreed  that  the  witness  should 
not  be  forced  to  answer  the  question. 

"  The  accused  may  continue,"  said  the  president. 

"  Can  you  swear  that  Berwick,  also,  was  not  a  guerilla  ?  " 

"  He  may  have  been  a  guerilla  at  that  time,  but  he  had  been 
a  Federal." 

"  When  you  were  attacked  at  Milford  Station,  did  you  know 
of  any  special  reason  for  the  attack  ?  " 

"  None,  except  that  I  was  a  Confederate  and  they  were  Fed- 
erals." 

"  Were  you  dressed  as  a  Confederate  ?  " 


426       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"  I  was  not." 

"  Were  you  dressed  as  a  Federal  ?" 

"Partly." 

"  Prior  to  that  time,  had  Berwick  ever  seen  you  in  other  than 
Federal  uniform  ?  " 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"  When  he  attacked  you,  did  you  believe  he  knew  you  were 
a  Confederate  ?  " 

« I  did  not." 

"Did  you  have  any  booty  that  they  might  hope  to  recap- 
ture ?  " 

"  No  booty ;  none  at  all." 

"There  was  nothing  of  value  in  your  possession  that  the 
party  wanted  to  take  from  you  ?  " 

"  There  was  no  such  thing  in  my  possession  as  is  ordinarily 
called  valuable." 

"  Did  you  have  nothing  whatever  which  the  party  wished  to 
take  from  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  there  was  a  person  in  my  charge." 

"  Was  this  person  dressed  as  a  Confederate  or  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  The  person  was  dressed  neither  as  a  Confederate,  nor  as  a 
Federal." 

"  Was  he  one  of  your  own  comrades  ?  " 

"No." 

The  president  said,  "The  witness  will  state  the  circum- 
stances fully." 

"  The  person  whom  I  had  in  charge  was  a  lady,  and  I  was 
conveying  her  to  a  place  of  safety.  She  was  far  from  her 
friends  and  in  my  charge." 

"  The  accused  will  continue,"  said  the  president. 

"  Had  this  lady  willingly  put  herself  under  your  charge  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  No ;  I  cannot  say  that  she  had." 

"  Were  you  conveying  this  lady  to  her  home  ?  " 

"  I  was  not." 


LIFE   OR   DEATH  427 

"  By  what  means  were  you  conveying  her  ?  " 

"  She  was  in  an  ambulance." 

"  Was  the  ambulance  Confederate  or  Federal  ?  " 

"  It  was  neither." 

The  president  said:  "You  are  understood  to  say  that  the 
ambulance  in  which  you  were  conveying  the  lady  was  neither 
Confederate  nor  Federal.  Was  it  a  private  ambulance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  in  a  sense  it  was  a  private  ambulance.  It  was  an 
ambulance  belonging  to  the  Sanitary  Commission  of  the  United 
States.  I  had  captured  this  ambulance  in  the  rear  of  General 
Meade's  army,  and  for  some  time  I  knew  nothing  of  its  con- 
tents, it  being  in  the  night.  When  I  looked  into  it  I  found 
there  was  a  lady  in  it." 

"  The  accused  will  continue,"  said  the  president. 

"  Did  you  know  who  this  lady  was  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  When  you  were  attacked  there  at  Milford,  did  you  resist  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  did  not  resist." 

"  In  your  retreat  did  you  save  the  ambulance  and  the  lady  ?  " 

"  I  did  not." 

"  Did  you  endeavour  to  do  so  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Did  Berwick  know  that  this  lady  was  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  that  he  knew  it  when  he  attacked  me." 

"  Did  he  know  this  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  When  Berwick  attacked  you  in  King  William  County,  were 
you  and  your  men  dressed  as  Federals  or  Confederates  ?  " 

"  No ;  we  were  not  dressed  as  either." 

"At  that  time  were  there  any  valuables  in  your  possession 
which  Berwick  wanted  to  take  from  you  ?  " 

"  We  had  nothing  which  could  be  called  valuable." 

"Did  you  have  a  lady  prisoner  on  that  occasion ? " 

"  I  did  not." 

"  Did  you  have  any  prisoner  ?  " 


428       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

"I  had." 

"  Was  this  person  a  Confederate  or  a  Federal  ?  " 

"  He  was  neither." 

The  president  said :  "  You  were  understood  to  say  that  you 
had  a  prisoner  in  your  keeping,  and  that  this  prisoner  was  nei- 
ther a  Federal  nor  a  Confederate.  Who  was  this  prisoner  ?  " 

"Mr.  Showalter,  sir." 

"A  citizen?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  did  he  reside  ?  " 

"  In  the  house  upon  which  the  attack  took  place,  sir." 

The  president  said,  "  The  accused  may  continue." 

"  I  have  no  further  questions,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"The  court  stands  adjourned  until  to-morrow  morning  at 
nine  o'clock,"  said  the  president. 


XXXVIII 

LIFE   AND    DEATH 

"  To  the  last  moment  of  his  breath, 

On  hope  the  wretch  relies ; 
And  even  the  pang  preceding  death 
Bids  expectation  rise."  — GOLDSMITH. 

AT  night  Sergeant  Wilson  came.  He  was  cheerful  —  said 
that  Captain  Barnwell  was  feeling  much  better  over  the  case. 

"  You'll  get  through,  Jones,  I  hope,"  said  Wilson,  "  unless 
somethin'  happens  I  can't  see  into.  That  fellow  Owen  got  his 
dose  to-day." 

"  Why  didn't  Captain  Barnwell  come  with  you,  Sergeant  ?  " 

"  Had  to  go  on  picket.  And  then,  you  know,  it's  six  miles 
off.  Say,  Jones,  can't  you  help  out  your  case  in  some  way  ?  If 
you  could  only  show  up  where  you've  been,  and  what  you've 
been  doin',  you  know." 

"  Sergeant,  that  was  a  tenstrike  of  yours  —  telling  ;em  about 
my  absence  after  Fredericksburg." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you've  been  sick  this  time,  too,  and  maybe 
more'n  once,"  said  Wilson ;  "  all  that  dam  stuff  about  Berwick 
—  why,  there's  not  a  man  on  that  court  can't  see  Owen  was 
talkin'  about  another  man.  And  I  believe  Owen  knows  it 
himself." 

Wilson's  suggestion  that  I  add  strength  to  my  cause  made 
me  uneasy.  I  had  not  intended  to  say  one  word  about  the 
manner  of  my  joining  Company  H,  but  now  I  decided  to  call 
for  Dr .  Frost,  and  I  asked  the  sergeant  to  see  him  for  me,  and 
to  get  him  to  send  for  Colonel  Haskell. 

429 


430       A  FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

When  the  court  opened  on  the  next  morning  the  judge- 
advocate  announced  that  there  was  no  other  witness  for  the 
government,  but  that  Lieutenant  Chappell  would  be  questioned 
again  in  the  presence  of  Private  Osborn  Chappell,  Twelfth 
South  Carolina  volunteers,  a  witness  for  the  accused. 

Lieutenant  Chappell  took  the  stand  and  repeated  substan- 
tially his  previous  testimony,  yet  with  some  hesitation,  which 
meant,  I  hoped,  that  he  had  seen  his  brother  and  was  staggered. 

Private  Chappell  was  then  sworn. 

I  asked  Chappell  if  he  recognized  me. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  he ;  "  I've  been  with  you  enough  to 
know  you." 

"  State  the  circumstances  fully." 

"  On  the  fifth  of  May,  in  the  battle  of  The  Wilderness,  the 
accused  fought  by  my  side.  In  the  Bloody  Angle  I  saw  him 
again  and  talked  with  him.  At  Riddell's  Shop  I  was  wounded 
and  saw  him  then;  he  helped  me  off  the  field  and  divided 
rations  with  me." 

Lieutenant  Chappell  asked  that  he  might  change  his 
testimony. 

He  desired,  he  said,  to  do  no  injustice ;  while  he  had  been 
convinced  that  the  man  whom  he  had  held  prisoner  in  The 
Wilderness  was  the  accused,  his  brother's  testimony  had 
caused  him  to  doubt ;  he  could  not  now  swear  positively  that 
this  was  not  a  remarkable  case  of  mistaken  identity. 

The  officers'  faces  showed  unmistakable  signs  of  satisfaction. 

The  judge-advocate  questioned  Private  Chappell. 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  accused  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  Jones  —  Berwick  Jones." 

"  Remarkable,"  said  the  president,  audibly. 

The  reply  of  Chappell  seemed  peculiarly  unfortunate.  I 
asked  the  judge-advocate  to  be  sure  that  Dr.  Frost  was  sent 
for. 

Now  the  judge-advocate  said :  — 

"  The  accused  has  furnished  me  with  the  names  of  several 


LIFE  AND  DEATH  43* 

witnesses  who  cannot  be  produced.  I  have  the  name  of  Cap- 
tain J.  T.  Fender,  of  the  Fifty-fifth  North  Carolina.  Captain 
Fender,  I  understand,  is  at  home  suffering  from  a  dangerous 
wound.  I  have  the  name  of  Sergeant  Madison  F.  Hawthorne  of 
the  Twelfth  South  Carolina,  said  by  the  accused  to  have  given 
him  a  receipt  on  the  third  of  July  last  for  one  prisoner  turned 
over.  I  learn  that  Sergeant  Hawthorne  was  killed  at  the  battle 
of  Jones's  Farm,  last  September.  I  have  also  the  name  of 
Sergeant  Crump,  of  the  Fourth  Virginia  cavalry,  who,  the 
accused  claims,  rescued  him  in  The  Wilderness  from  the  Fed- 
eral cavalry.  I  learn  that  Sergeant  Crump  is  a  prisoner.  I 
have  the  name  of  Colonel  A.  C.  Haskell,  formerly  adjutant  of 
the  regiment  to  which  the  accused  belongs,  and  brother  to  Cap- 
tain Haskell,  who,  if  he  were  in  life,  could  throw  some  light 
on  this  peculiar  case.  Colonel  Haskell  is  in  command  of  the 
Seventh  South  Carolina  cavalry  and  is  many  miles  from  this 
spot.  The  accused,  however,  wishes  the  trial  to  proceed  and 
waives  all  claim  to  delay  necessary  to  submit  interrogatories." 

Cyrus  Ruff,  Twelfth  South  Carolina,  was  sworn.  He  testified 
that  on  the  evening  of  November  29th,  1863,  he  had  seen  me  in 
the  line  of  battle  at  Mine  Run.  Being  questioned  by  the  judge- 
advocate  as  to  the  definiteness  of  his  identification,  Ruff  said : 
"  Oh,  I  know  him ;  I  was  with  him  in  Haskell's  battalion ;  and 
as  to  my  knowing  him  that  night,  he  sat  down  by  the  fire 
with  a  crowd  of  us  boys  and  staid  there,  talking  and  smoking 
until  after  dark.  I  know  Sergeant  Jones." 

Benjamin  Rothwell,  Company  H,  First  South  Carolina  vol- 
unteers, was  sworn. 

Promptly's  testimony  was  to  the  effect  that  on  the  12th  of 
May  I  had  fought  by  his  side  in  the  Bloody  Angle,  and  that  he, 
the  witness,  and  Jones,  had  both  been  knocked  down  by  a  tree 
which  fell  on  some  of  the  men.  He  swore  further  that  he 
thought  Jones  had  been  killed  by  the  tree. 

"  Why  did  you  think  that  ?  "  asked  the  judge-advocate. 

"  'Cause  when  I  got  strength  enough  to  crawl  out  I  called  to 


432       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

him.  He  was  a-layin'  almost  on  top  of  me.  I  felt  him  and 
shook  him.  All  our  men  had  gone,  and  I  didn't  want  to  leave 
him  there  if  he  was  alive,  'cause  the  Yankees  would  get  him." 

"  And  did  the  Yankees  get  him  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  did.  I  left  him  there,  and  never  saw  him 
any  more  till  the  other  day." 

Private  West  Norton,  Company  A,  McGowan's  sharp- 
shooters, testified  that  on  July  3d,  I  had  been  with  him  and 
a  few  other  sharp-shooters  who  were  skirmishing  with  the 
Yankees  on  the  north  side  of  James  River ;  that  he  knew  me 
very  well  —  had  marched  with  me  and  slept  with  me  in  the 
old  battalion. 

Sergeant  J.  D.  Hall,  Company  E,  Thirty-eighth  North  Caro- 
lina, Scales's  brigade,  was  sworn. 

The  sergeant  testified  that  on  the  morning  of  December  31st, 
he  being  on  the  skirmish-line  where  the  sharp-shooters  after- 
ward passed  through  to  surprise  the  enemy,  a  man  had  come 
into  the  pits  from  the  front,  and  had  reported  that  some  of  his 
vedettes  had  left  their  posts  and  gone  to  the  Yankees.  He 
had  gone  out  and  found  the  report  true,  and  had  posted  new 
vedettes.  He  could  not  positively  swear  that  the  accused  was 
the  man  who  had  given  him  the  information. 

Private  Frank  Meadows,  of  Company  E,  Thirty-eighth  North 
Carolina  regiment,  testified  similarly  to  Sergeant  Hall,  and 
swore  positively  that  the  accused  was  the  man  who  had  reported 
that  the  vedettes  had  deserted.  Upon  being  questioned  fur- 
ther, he  said  that  he  could  see  the  man's  face  better  than  Ser- 
geant Hall  could,  because  before  he  woke  up  Hall,  the  accused 
had  come  within  the  light  of  the  fire  —  had  sat  by  the  fire  to 
warm. 

"  Where  did  he  go  ?  "  asked  the  judge-advocate. 

"  He  went  down  on  the  right,"  said  the  witness ;  "  he  said 
he  was  looking  for  the  sharp-shooters." 

Dr.  F.  L.  Frost  was  sworn ;  he  testified  as  follows :  — 

(<  About  the  third  of  June,  sixty-two  —  I  being  then  the  sur- 


LIFE   AND  DEATH  433 

geon  of  the  First  South  Carolina  regiment,  —  the  accused  was 
brought  insensible  to  my  hospital  tents.  There  had  been 
some  artillery  firing  at  the  front,  and  he  had  been  picked  up 
by  our  infirmary  men.  I  found  a  large  but  superficial  contu- 
sion on  the  occiput,  and  a  very  slight  one  covering  the  glabel- 
lum,"  putting  his  hand  first  at  the  back  of  his  head,  and  then 
between  the  eyes.  "  He  soon  recovered  consciousness,  but  was 
unable  to  speak.  When  at  last  he  did  speak,  I  knew  from  the 
nature  of  his  replies  that  his  mind  was  in  a  state  of  confusion. 
He  did  not  seem  to  know  at  first  where  he  was,  or  even  what 
was  going  on  about  him.  Before  he  had  recovered  power  to 
speak  I  had  sent  to  the  adjutant  of  the  brigade  a  description 
of  the  man,  believing  his  friends  had  missed  him  and  were 
anxious,  as  nobody  around  appeared  to  be  interested  in  him. 
The  adjutant  had  instituted  inquiries  throughout  the  brigade 
without  avail,  yet  the  man  evidently  belonged  to  our  brigade, 
for  he  had  palmetto  buttons  on  his  jacket.  When  he  was  able 
to  speak  and  understand,  he  showed  at  first  an  inordinate  curi- 
osity, but  no  healthy  interest.  I  at  last  told  him  plainly  that 
he  was  a  soldier,  and  that  the  country  was  at  war,  but  he 
would  not  believe  me.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  lost  the 
memory  of  events  for  nearly  three  years  past.  He  remembered 
being  at  some  place  in  South  Carolina,  but  could  not  remember 
his  home.  He  even  had  his  name  mixed.  On  a  diary  in  his 
pocket  he  had  his  name  written  B.  Jones,  while  he  insisted 
that  his  name  was  Jones  Berwick.  I  consulted  Adjutant  Has- 
kell  —  now  Colonel  Haskell  —  concerning  the  case,  and  we 
agreed  that  the  best  thing  to  do  with  him  upon  his  recovery, 
which  was  soon  expected,  would  be  to  place  him  in  Company 
H,  of  the  First,  with  the  special  condition,  of  course,  that  he 
be  returned  to  his  own  company  whenever  called  for.  It  was 
a  very  curious  and  interesting  case.  I  learned  afterward  that 
under  Captain  Haskell  the  man  became  a  very  fine  soldier.  I 
know  that  Captain  Haskell  was  greatly  attached  to  him,  and 
I  know  also  from  sources  not  to  be  doubted  that  the  accused 
2r 


434       A  FKIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

became  very  disconsolate  after  Captain  Haskell's  death  at 
Gettysburg.  When  I  heard  that  he  was  missing,  my  opinion 
was  that  he  had  recovered  his  memory  and  had  gone  back  to 
his  proper  command." 

Dr.  Frost  here  paused,  and  then  said,  "  There  is  one  other 
thing  I  ought  to  say.  My  patient  was  morbidly  sensitive 
concerning  his  mental  condition.  He  feared  that  he  would 
become  a  gazing-stock,  so  to  speak,  and  he  joined  Company 
H  as  a  raw  recruit,  investing  money  in  new  citizens'  cloth- 
ing, in  order  that  nobody  might  suspect  that  he  had  been 
in  the  service  before;  he  said  the  men  would  wonder  at  a 
soldier's  joining  them,  and  would  ask  questions  that  he  could 
not  answer.  I  am  quite  sure  that  there  were  only  three  per- 
sons who  knew  the  truth  —  Captain  Haskell,  Adjutant 
Haskell,  and  myself.  I  have  never  heard  anything  of  his 
original  and  proper  command,  and  I  have  always  wondered 
why  somebody  didn't  claim  him ;  yet,  as  I  say,  when  I  learned 
that  he  was  missing  I  supposed  that  he  had  recovered  and  had 
returned  to  his  company." 

When  Dr.  Frost  had  ended,  the  president  said,  "  I  think  it's 
high  time  to  wind  up  this  case  and  get  at  something  else." 

The  words  might  mean  nothing;  the  tones  were  full  of 
hopeful  meaning. 

"  One  moment  more,  sir,  if  you  please,"  said  the  judge-advo- 
cate. "  Will  Colonel  Brown  please  take  the  stand  ?  " 

Colonel  J.  N.  Brown,  commanding  McGowan's  brigade, 
was  sworn. 

I  asked  him  if  he  knew  me. 

He  testified  that  he  recognized  me  as  one  Berwick  Jones, 
whom  he  had  first  observed  in  the  battle  of  Spottsylvania,  and 
afterward  in  that  of  Jericho  Ford. 

"  I  have  heard  a  good  deal  of  the  conflicting  testimony  of 
this  case,"  said  the  colonel,  "and  I  think  I  can  throw  some 
little  light  on  it.  The  accused  was  not  captured  at  Spottsyl- 
vania, for  I  know  that  he  was  at  Jericho  Ford  not  two  weeks 


LIFE  AND  DEATH  435 

later ;  there  he  and  I  were  both  captured.  I  had  asked  him 
the  way  to  the  Fourteenth  regiment,  and  had  ordered  him  to 
lead  me,  but  I  failed  to  follow  his  direction,  and  I  am  sorry 
that  I  didn't,  for  I  led  him  into  a  trap ;  we  both  got  caught. 
It  is  not  surprising  that  a  prisoner  doesn't  report  to  his  com- 
pany." 

This  ended  the  testimony. 

The  president  said,  "  Has  the  accused  anything  to  say  in  his 
own  vindication  ?  " 

I  rose  and  said :  "  May  it  please  the  court ;  I  do  not  deny 
that  I  have  been  at  times  absent  from  Company  H.  There 
have  been  times  when  I  was  compelled  to  be  absent  from  Com- 
pany H.  There  have  been  times  in  my  life,  gentlemen,  when  I 
knew  not  where  I  was,  or  who  I  was.  Such  was  my  condition 
when  I  was  brought  to  Doctor  Frost.  This  is  all  I  have  to 
say,  gentlemen  —  if  the  words  of  those  who  have  borne  testi- 
mony against  me  are  true  without  extenuation,  then  I  ought  to 
be  condemned  by  the  court ;  but  one  thing  I  do  know,  gentle- 
men :  I  never  did,  knowingly  and  wilfully,  desert  my  colours." 
Then  I  sat  down. 

The  judge-advocate  made  a  short,  closing  speech,  giving 
Owen's  testimony  great  weight ;  yet  I  could  tell  that  his  sym- 
pathy was  not  with  Owen. 

The  court  ordered  the  room  cleared ;  in  less  than  two  min- 
utes the  doors  were  thrown  open  and  the  long  agony  was  over. 

But  no;  it  was  not  over;  when  I  heard  the  words  "Not 
guilty,"  my  tense  restraint  loosened,  and  I  almost  fell  into  the 
outstretched  arms  of  Wilson,  who  saw  my  weakness.  Previ- 
ously I  had  fought  with  all  my  will ;  now,  when  will  was  no 
longer  needed,  body  and  mind  underwent  a  relaxation,  un- 
wholesome and  confusing.  Complete  indifference  had  come 
upon  me ;  physical  sensation  was  dulled ;  thought  stood  still ; 
I  cared  not  for  South  or  for  North  —  for  myself  or  for  my  kind. 

I  went  with  Wilson  to  Company  H.  I  began  to  be  sick  — 
horribly  sick.  The  surgeon  of  the  regiment  was  sent  for.  He 


436       A   FRIEND  WITH   THE  COUNTERSIGN 

found  me  lying  in  Wilson's  own  bunk  in  his  little  shanty.  He 
felt  my  pulse,  looked  at  my  tongue,  and  said :  — 

"Nervous  prostration.  You've  had  enough  to  kill  you  j  just 
keep  quiet." 

In  the  late  afternoon  I  was  sinking  into  a  doze,  when  I 
felt  some  one  shake  me.  Wilson  stood  by ;  he  looked  very 
serious. 

"  Bad  news,  old  man,"  he  said. 

"Let  me  sleep,"  I  muttered. 

He  said  something  which  I  did  not  catch;  then  he  leaned 
over  and  shook  me  again. 

"  Get  up,  Jones ;  some  men  want  to  see  you." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  anybody." 

"  But  you  must  get  up ;  you're  wanted." 

"  What  is  it,  Sergeant  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  it's  about,  but  you  must  get  up." 

When  I  had  crawled  out  of  the  bunk,  and  crept  out  of  the 
hut,  I  saw  a  corporal  and  two  men. 

"  Are  you  B.  Jones  ?  "  asked  the  corporal. 

«  Yes." 

"  You  are  under  arrest ;  come  with  me." 

I  did  not  move ;  I  did  not  understand.  "  Go  with  you  for 
what?"  I  asked. 

"  I've  got  nothin'  to  do  with  that  part  of  it ;  all  I've  got  to 
do  is  to  obey  my  orders." 

"  Where  are  you  to  take  me  ?  " 

"  To  the  guard-house." 

Wilson  had  brought  out  my  blankets ;  he  started  to  go  along 
with  us.  "  Some  mistake,"  he  grumbled. 

"  Sergeant,"  I  said,  "  please  go  see  Captain  Barnwell  and  ask 
why  I  am  arrested." 

The  circumstance  was  very  odd,  I  thought  —  I  should  say 
fancied,  for  I  was  yet  in  a  semi-stupor,  and  could  not  think 
connectedly.  Yet  I  had  no  fears.  There  was  nothing  against 
me  now  —  could  be  nothing.  I  had  stood  my  trial  and  had 


LIFE   AND   DEATH  437 

gone  free  —  rightly  free.  My  conscience  was  clear  ...  as  for 
serving  the  Confederates  again,  of  course  I  had  no  such  inten- 
tion—  such  an  intention  would  have  been  impossibly  unscru- 
pulous .  .  .  had  I  said  anything  in  my  sleep  ? 

I  was  not  long  in  suspense ;  a  suspense,  however,  but  little 
beyond  indifference.  Wilson  came  to  the  guard-house. 

"  What  is  it  now,  Sergeant  ?  " 

"  Jones,  it's  the  most  ridiculous  story  I  ever  heard." 

"  Out  with  it !  " 

"  That  Captain  Owen  accuses  you  of  being  a  Yankee  spy ! 
Says  that  when  you  came  to  us  at  first  you  were  a  Yankee 

spy!" 

******* 

Saturday  night.  They  were  quick  about  it.  That  night, 
last  night  it  was,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  plead  guilty.  My 
will  was  exhausted  in  yesterday's  struggle.  Besides,  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  fight  what  I  know  to  be  true.  I  had 
fought  the  charge  of  desertion,  —  that  charge  had  been  untrue ; 
before  the  truth  I  was  powerless.  Life  was  at  stake ;  as  yet, 
not  fully  recovered  from  prostration,  I  did  not  value  life ;  at 
least  its  value  was  not  appreciated  as  it  now  is ;  yet  I  wish  to 
declare  solemnly  that  my  act  of  deciding  to  yield  the  contest 
was  not  for  the  reason  that  I  did  not  value  life ;  now  that  I 
know  what  is  before  me  I  do  not  repent  my  act.  My  condi- 
tion is  such  that  there  can  be  no  egotism.  I  wish  to  give  my 
friends  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  I  did  not  contest  the 
truth.  I  had  incurred  the  penalty  of  military  law.  When  I 
went  into  the  Confederate  lines,  in  the  night  of  June  2d,  1862, 
I  took  my  life  in  my  hands,  and  I  now  had  no  right  to 
complain. 

Wilson  has  brought  me  some  sheets  of  yellow  Confederate 
paper;  I  have  wished  to  devote  these  last  few  hours  to  my 
friends  whom  I  shall  not  see  in  this  little  life.  God  knows 
how  I  love  them,  how  I  weep  for  their  weeping,  how  I  wish 
to  comfort  them,  and  how  I  pray  God  to  be  with  them  always. 


438       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

But  Lydia,  I  want  you  to  know  the  truth  —  that  I  stood  for 
what  I  thought  right  —  that  I  would  not  deny  the  truth. 
******* 

Sunday.  I  have  written  out  what  has  happened  since  last  I 
saw  my  Lydia  —  mine,  even  now,  I  know.  I  thank  my  friends 
here  in  this  army  for  their  kindness  .  .  .  the  officers  of  the 
court  —  they  were  kind  .  .  .  they  could  not  help  what  they 
have  done  ...  I  saw  tears  in  their  eyes  .  .  .  and  for  old  John 
Wilson,  I  have  no  words  that  can  give  my  feeling.  God  bless 
you,  John.  You  will  find  my  friends  and  will  give  them  this, 
and  I  want  Lydia,  when  she  reads  it,  to  give  you  my  kiss. 
******* 

Doctor,  —  my  friend  —  my  more  than  father,  —  farewell.  I 
have  loved  you.  You  have  been  my  guide  .  .  .  how  I  treasure 
your  teachings  .  .  .  they  comfort  me  now,  as  I  go  into  the 
darkness  ...  for  I  believe  ...  I  believe  you.  ...  I  believe 
God  .  .  .  this  is  not  the  last  .  .  .  Doctor  .  .  .  Father  .  .  . 
farewell ! 

******* 

Monday.  0  my  Lydia  —  my  sweet  true-hearted  one  .  .  .  what 
can  I  say  to  you  ?  Nothing  —  nothing  —  except  that  I  was 
true,  and  that  I  know  I  shall  be  with  you  again  —  in  another 
land  where  there  is  no  war.  Be  not  angry  against  my  accusers 
...  it  is  military  law.  It  is  hard  to  leave  you,  dear  —  hard  — 
hard  .  .  .  and  I  think  it  hard,  too,  that  I  am  to  die  at  the  hands 
of  my  old  comrades  by  whose  sides  I  fought  so  long;  you 
know  that  I  have  never  harmed  one  of  them ;  that  all  my  best 
service,  all  my  real  service  was  given  for  them,  for  my  life 
under  General  Meade  has  been  a  failure  —  a  complete  failure. 
Everything  I've  attempted  has  failed  —  in  The  Wilderness, 
and  at  the  salient,  and  at  Riddell's,  and  now.  Nothing  I've 
done  since  I  left  Lee's  army  has  succeeded  —  except  the  matter 
of  Scherzer  .  .  .  and  success  in  that  case  was  not  mine,  Lydia, 
—  it  was  your  father's.  But,  dear,  this  is  useless  talk  now  — 
I  must  think  of  your  sweet  face,  and  not  of  my  disappointed 


LIFE   AND  DEATH  439 

past.  Oh,  love,  love  me !  I  need  you,  dear.  ...  I  am  weak, 
.  .  .  weak  ...  I  should  sink  but  for  remembering  your  father's 
words. 

They  are  getting  ready.  My  love  —  my  love,  what  can  I 
say  to  you?  .  .  .  They  are  coming.  .  .  .  Love  —  love  me; 
good-by.  .  .  . 


XXXIX 

FROM  LYDIA'S  NARRATION 

How  slowly  the  days  went  by !  Winter,  spring  with  its 
joys  annihilated  by  man's  wickedness,  and  then  the  long,  long 
days  in  Virginia  where  death  raged  under  the  Dog-star,  and 
when  the  time  was  spent  in  naught  but  shedding  blood. 

When  Jones  returned  to  me  on  the  Rappahannock  it  was 
my  wish  that  he  should  retire  from  the  service;  his  three 
years  of  enlistment  had  nearly  expired,  and  it  would  have  been 
so  easy  for  him  to  secure  an  honourable  discharge ;  every  one 
who  saw  him  said  that  he  looked  utterly  unable  to  do  more. 
And  when  Father  and  he  agreed  that  he  should  serve  General 
Meade  in  those  mysterious  channels  where  he  worked,  I  was 
utterly  opposed;  but  no;  they  would  not  listen  to  me;  I  could 
not  have  my  way.  My  opposition  to  Jones's  work  was  extreme ; 
I  felt  the  awful  danger  that  he  was  always  running,  and  I 
knew  that  some  day  he  would  be  captured,  and  if  captured  he 
would  be  certain  to  be  recognized,  for  if  any  one  ever  saw 
Jones  he  would  surely  know  him  again.  He  has  said  in  his 
description  of  himself  as  a  Confederate  that  he  was  ugly  —  but 
it  is  not  so;  he  never  was  ugly  even  in  his  moments  of  great- 
est suffering  and  neglect  —  he  was  by  far  the  handsomest  man 
I  ever  saw ;  not  handsome  after  the  order  of  a  ready-made  pic- 
ture, —  made  with  colour  and  adornment,  —  but  handsome  as  a 
man  ought  to  be.  One  had  only  to  see  his  face  once  to  know 
there  was  something  in  him  —  something  of  life  and  honour 
and  truth  and  intelligence.  I  know  that  Father  thought  there 
was  no  man  on  earth  as  good  as  Jones  —  I  believe  he  loved 
him  more  than  he  loved  me. 

440 


FKOM  LYDIA'S  NARRATION  441 

On  the  night  when  Father  showed  Jones  those  buttons  I  was 
more  than  usually  wretched ;  Jones  had  just  come  back  from 
the  Mine  Run  march,  where  he  had  seen  and  talked  with  some 
of  his  old  comrades.  He  had  returned  safely,  yet  my  fears 
were  not  lessened  by  his  return ;  I  had  made  him  that  reversi- 
ble clothing,  and  I  now  began  to  repent  what  I  had  done ;  my 
fears  told  me  that  such  a  device  only  increased  his  danger ;  if 
he  should  be  suspected  and  examined,  he  would  be  lost.  And 
when  they  began  to  talk  about  those  buttons,  it  looked  to  me 
as  though  everything  was  conspiring  to  bring  ruin  on  Jones. 
What  did  I  care  whether  he  succeeded  in  passing  our  pickets  ? 
I  wished  that  no  picket  would  ever  let  him  pass  out  of  our 
army.  This  button  with  its  perpetual  countersign  was  but  a 
new  danger,  for  it  would  only  make  Jones  more  venturous,  and 
even  before  Father  began  to  suspect  Captain  Scranton  of  covet- 
ing it,  I  coveted  it,  and  determined  to  have  it.  So  while  they 
were  talking  about  some  other  matters  that  night,  I  quietly 
took  away  the  marked  button,  and  substituted  for  it  one  left 
over  from  my  supply  purchased  for  the  reversible  uniform. 
Captain  Scranton  did  not  get  that  button  then,  though  he  may 
have  taken  others. 

When  Father  sent  for  me  to  come  and  nurse  Jones  after  that 
horrible  Angle  battle,  I  learned  that  Jones  had  missed  his 
button,  and  that  he  attributed  his  being  forced  in  that  battle 
to  its  loss ;  but  suppose  the  Confederate  men  who  saved  him 
should  have  found  him  in  the  act  of  showing  that  button  and 
its  contents  to  our  men  ?  I  kept  the  button.  But  when  our 
ambulance  was  captured  by  Captain  Scranton,  with  poor  me  in 
it,  some  of  his  men  stole  my  little  satchel,  and  I  know  now 
how  Mr.  Scranton  came  at  last  into  possession  of  General 
Meade's  order  and  of  the  little  wrench,  for  I  had  that  also.  I 
said  nothing  of  this  to  Jones,  for  he  was  having  trouble  enough, 
but  I  did  tell  Father. 

When  Jones  went  to  Richmond  on  that  desperate  undertak- 
ing in  regard  to  the  French  nobleman,  neither  he  nor  Father 


442       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

told  me  a  word  about  it,  and  I  expected  him  to  return  in  a  few 
days,  but  a  week  went  by  and  I  became  very  uneasy ;  my  sleep 
was  troubled,  and  in  my  waking  hours,  even,  I  could  see  him 
in  distress.  This  state  of  mind  continued  until  it  became 
really  intolerable,  and  at  last  I  persuaded  Father  to  act.  No 
sooner  had  Father  gone  to  Jones's  help  in  Richmond  than 
I  became  satisfied,  and  remained  so.  I  could  not  account 
for  this  then,  nor  can  I  now ;  all  I  know  is  that  such  was  the 
case. 

The  latter  part  of  March  came,  and  Jones  had  been  gone 
from  us  for  nearly  three  months.  I  was  in  agony.  Not  a  word 
had  been  heard  from  him.  I  had  gone  to  see  Colonel  Sharpe 
more  than  once,  and  had  begged  him  to  inquire  thoroughly  of 
eveiy  deserter  from  Lee's  army  about  Jones ;  for  deserters  were 
coming  in  every  night,  some  of  them,  I  knew,  from  General 
Hill's  troops,  and  it  would  not  be  strange  if  some  of  them 
should  know  something.  In  February  I  had  sent  York  into 
Richmond,  but  he  had  returned  without  a  word  of  news. 
Jones  had  not  been  seen  or  heard  of  by  any  of  his  friends 
there. 

My  anxiety  became  almost  madness.  Father  was  on  the 
north  side,  and  I  could  not  see  him,  and  I  had  nothing  what- 
ever to  comfort  me.  I  knew  something  was  the  matter  with 
Jones,  and  my  mind  became  so  restless  that  I  could  not  do  good 
work  in  the  hospital,  and  my  condition  was  rapidly  growing 
worse.  I  imagined  Jones  sick,  in  prison,  starving,  in  danger 
of  his  life  from  those  Confederates  ;  I  felt  sure  they  had 
taken  him. 

Very  early  one  Monday  morning  late  in  March  I  was  greatly 
astonished  to  see  Colonel  Sharpe  come  into  my  ward.1  I  was 
more  than  astonished  —  I  was  terrified.  He  came  to  me  at 
once,  and  said,  "  Miss  Khayme,  are  you  strong  ?  "  My  heart 

1  Thia  officer  had  been  recently  promoted.  He  was  now  Brevet  Brigadier- 
general  Sharpe.  We  have  thought  best  to  leave  the  title  as  the  writer  has  it 

—  the  title  to  which  she  was  accustomed.     [ED.] 


FROM   LYDIA'S   NARRATION  443 

—  no,  I  had  no  heart  —  everything  turned  black  before  my 
eyes,  for  I  knew  what  he  meant ;  but  I  had  strength  enough 
to  say,  "  Anything  is  better  than  suspense." 

"  Colonel  Berwick  is  in  great  danger,  my  dear  young  lady." 
Then  I  burst  out  crying,  for  these  words  really  brought  a  little 
relief ;  I  had  thought  that  he  was  going  to  tell  me  that  Jones 
was  dead. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  prisoner,"  said  he. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  In  front  of  our  left,  beyond  the  Weldon  railroad,"  said  he. 

"  How  did  you  learn  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Some  deserters  from  McGowan's  brigade  came  in  last 
night,"  he  replied. 

"  And  you  say  he  is  in  danger  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  very  grave  danger ;  no  man  could  be  in  greater," 
were  his  words. 

"  Then  they  know  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  they  know  him,  and  worse." 

"  Worse  ?  "  I  cried.     "  Tell  me  all ! " 

"  Four  days  ago  he  was  tried  as  a  deserter  from  the  Confed- 
erate army  —  he  was  acquitted;  Saturday  he  was  tried  as  a 
Federal  spy  and  was  convicted." 

"  Oh,  no.  no,  no ! "  I  cried,  although  I  knew  that  what  he  said 
was  not  surprising. 

"  It  is  very  sadly  true,"  said  he ;  "  he  has  but  a  few  hours." 

"  Colonel,  I  am  going  to  General  Lee  —  I  am  going  to  Gen- 
eral Lee  —  help  me,  please  help  me,  to  get  to  General  Lee  ! " 
and  when  I  cried  out  these  words  I  had  no  idea  that  he  would 
do  it ;  but  he  said  at  once :  — 

"  You  can't  do  any  harm,  and  I  will  help  you,  but  you  must 
be  quick ;  you  have  not  one  moment  to  lose  ! " 

I  sank  down  in  a  chair  and  covered  my  face  with  my  hands, 
and  I  prayed,  oh !  how  I  prayed. 

But  I  rose  again  and  looked  at  Colonel  Sharpe. 


444       A  FRIEND  WITH   THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  If  I  can  only  get  to  Colonel  Paull,"  I  cried,  "  I  know  he 
will  see  that  I  get  to  General  Lee ! " 

"  I  had  expected  you  to  try  it,"  he  said ;  and  oh !  that  gave 
me  a  little  hope.  "  I  came  by  General  Meade's  headquarters 
and  told  him ;  and  I  have  orders  to  help  you  in  every  way  pos- 
sible. Now  just  remain  here  one  instant,"  and  he  went  away, 
but  came  back  at  once,  and  led  me  out.  Then  I  saw  our 
ambulance,  with  big,  strong  horses,  and  a  great  yellow  flag 
flying,  and  there  were  five  or  six  mounted  men,  one  of  them 
an  officer,  and  York  was  sitting  on  the  seat.  Colonel  Sharpe 
said  something  and  gave  something  to  the  officer,  who  at  once 
turned  and  rode  off  to  the  south,  followed  hard  by  his  men, 
and  then  York  roared  at  his  horses  and  drove  as  fast  as  he 
could. 

Where  we  were  going  I  did  not  know,  but  I  was  sure  that 
Colonel  Sharpe  knew,  and  I  felt  not  one  bit  of  fear  for  myself, 
which  was  all  the  worse  for  me,  as  it  kept  my  anguish  full  in 
thinking  of  Jones.  Ahead  of  us  cannons  were  firing  and 
smoke  was  rising,  but  after  a  while  we  passed  beyond  the  smoke 
and  turned  west,  and  I  remember  we  crossed  a  railroad,  and 
then  went  for  a  long  distance  through  woods  and  fields,  every- 
where seeing  our  men  in  the  long  yellow  trenches.  But  we 
went  even  beyond  the  trenches,  and  then  turned  north,  York 
whipping  the  poor  horses  at  almost  every  step  to  keep  in  sight 
of  the  men  before  us. 

We  had  not  gone  north  very  far  when  I  saw  our  horsemen 
stop,  and  we  came  up  with  them. 

The  officer  handed  me  an  envelope  and  said :  — 

"  We  can  go  no  farther.  You  are  to  deliver  this  to  its  ad- 
dress in  case  you  find  it  advisable.  It  is  from  General  Meade 
to  General  Lee,  and  I  am  ordered  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
advised  to  be  cautious  in  handing  it  to  him;  you  must  not 
hand  it  to  him  at  all  unless  you  know  that  it  is  absolutely  nec- 
essary, because  it  is  possible  that  he  would  be  offended  at  what 
he  might  regard  as  interference  —  a  threat,  you  understand, 


FROM   LYDIA'S   NARRATION  445 

madam.  We  are  going  to  remain  here  until  we  see  that  you 
get  safely  within  the  rebel  lines.  You  can  see  them  now. 
Have  no  fears  of  their  injuring  you;  the  yellow  flag  will  pro- 
tect you." 

Then  he  ordered  York  to  drive  on,  and  down  the  hill  we 
went,  for  a  little  while  in  the  woods,  but  soon  there  were  no 
more  woods,  and  I  could  see  some  men  standing  in  the  road. 
Before  the  ambulance  reached  them,  they  said,  "  Halt ! "  and 
York  obeyed.  Then  two  of  them  stepped  forward  and  came 
close  to  the  ambulance  and  asked  York  what  he  meant  by 
coming. 

I  pulled  aside  a  curtain,  and  then  saw  that  one  of  the  men 
was  wearing  a  sword,  and  I  asked  if  he  could  send  me  to  Col- 
onel Paull.  He  replied  that  he  would  be  compelled  to  keep 
me,  but  would  send  for  Colonel  Paull,  who  was  not  on  duty 
this  day.  I  begged  him  earnestly  to  lose  no  time,  but  he  did 
lose  time ;  he  was  gone  so  long  that  I  thought  he  would  never 
return,  but  at  last  Colonel  Paull  himself  rode  up,  and  demanded 
to  know  what  was  wanted,  and  before  I  could  reply,  he  cried 
out,  "  By  the  Lord  !  I  believe  this  is  Doctor  Khayme's  ambu- 
lance ! " 

Then,  in  a  flood  of  tears,  I  leaned  forward  and  tried  to 
speak. 

He  dismounted  and  came  to  me  and  begged  me  to  compose 
myself,  saying  that  no  harm  should  come  to  me,  and  begged 
me  to  tell  him  my  trouble. 

When,  after  more  than  one  failure,  I  had  made  him  know 
the  reason  of  my  distress,  and  had  besought  him  to  send  me  to 
General  Lee  at  once,  he  instantly  mounted,  and  told  York  to 
drive  after  him,  and  away  we  went  again  —  north,  north, 
always  north,  until — when  it  was  full  midday  —  we  were  go- 
ing through  the  streets  of  a  town,  and  I  knew  it  was  Peters- 
burg, for  the  noise  of  the  cannons  was  now  behind  us  and  at 
the  east.  Colonel  Paull  stopped  and  helped  me  out  of  the  am- 
bulance ;  at  the  door  of  the  house  there  was  a  sentinel,  but  he 


446       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

made  no  opposition  to  our  entering.  We  went  upstairs.  The 
colonel  said  to  me,  "  Remain  here  one  moment,  please,  and 
collect  all  your  resources."  Then  he  went  on  into  a  room 
where  I  could  hear  voices  of  men,  and  the  door  closed  behind 
him.  I  was  in  a  kind  of  small  anteroom  —  or  rather  a  large 
turning  space  at  the  top  of  the  stairs ;  an  old  settee  was  there, 
and  I  was  sitting  there,  not  frightened  in  the  least  in  regard 
to  my  interview  with  General  Lee,  except  as  it  concerned 
Jones ;  all  at  once  the  door  opened  and  two  men  walked  toward 
me,  one  of  them  the  grandest  looking  old  man  I  ever  saw,  and 
Colonel  Paull  said,  "  General,  this  is  the  lady  who  saved  my 
life  —  and  that  of  other  Confederates." 

The  general  took  my  hand  and  said :  — 

"  The  women  put  us  to  shame ;  their  devotion  has  no  limits." 

I  thought  by  this  speech  that  he  was  wholly  unaware  of  my 
purpose,  for  he  seemed  to  think  me  a  Southern  woman,  and  I 
said :  — 

"  General,  you  must  not  think  me  in  favour  of  the  South. 
I  have  come  to  beg  you  for  the  life  of  a  Union  soldier." 

He  still  held  my  hand.  I  had  risen  at  his  approach.  Now 
he  said,  "  Let  us  sit  down  here.  Colonel,  won't  you  please  sit 
with  us  ?  " 

The  three  of  us  were  there  on  the  settee,  I  in  the  middle. 

"No,"  said  the  general;  "Colonel  Paull  has  told  me  who 
you  are,  but  he  has  not  informed  me  fully  as  to  your  present 
visit." 

He  spoke  wearily,  yet  with  the  utmost  courtesy  in  manner 
and  tone.  And  now  I  stood  before  him,  he  sitting  there  and 
looking  up  into  my  face,  which  I  know  was  red  and  distorted. 
And  words  came  to  me  —  words  given  by  thoughts  born  in  that 
instant. 

"  General,  listen.  A  man  comes  into  your  army  dressed  as  a 
Confederate ;  he  does  nothing  against  you  except  that ;  as  soon 
as  he  gets  into  your  army,  God  destroys  his  purpose;  God 
makes  of  this  Union  soldier  a  Confederate  soldier  who  serves 


FROM   LYDIA'S   NARRATION  447 

under  Lee  and  Jackson ;  he  serves  well ;  in  the  very  first  bat- 
tle —  the  first  victory  which  you  won  with  this  army,  General, 
this  man  falls  far  in  front  of  hesitating  men.  He  recovers  and 
fights  for  your  army  at  Manassas  and  Harper's  Ferry  and  An- 
tietam  and  Chancellorsville  and  Gettysburg.  General  Lee,  are 
you  going  to  kill  this  man  ?  No !  You  are  not  the  one  to  kill 
him !  Let  the  Union  men  kill  him,  if  anybody  must !  They 
are  the  ones  he  fought ! " 

"  But  why  should  I  kill  him  ?  Who  is  he  ?  Tell  me,  Colo- 
nel ;  tell  me  this  case.  I  never  heard  of  this.  What  is  it  ? 
Please  be  seated  again,  my  child." 

Colonel  Paull  told  the  general  the  case ;  how  that  B.  Jones 
had  been  tried  for  desertion  and  found  not  guilty,  and  that  at 
once  he  had  been  tried  as  a  spy  and  had  plead  guilty,  and  had 
been  sentenced. 

The  general  rose  and  went  to  the  door,  and  I  could  hear  him 
say  a  few  words —  "Third  corps  —  papers  —  Jones,"  and  I 
could  hear  another  voice  in  reply  to  him. 

Then  he  came  back  to  us  and  said :  — 

"  Colonel,  can  you  give  me  any  explanation  of  this  matter  ? 
Why  did  this  spy  join  us  ?  " 

Before  Colonel  Paull  could  answer,  I  exclaimed :  — 

"  General,  I  have  known  Jones  for  many  years.  Mr.  Ber- 
wick, who  is  known  as  Jones  by  your  army,  lost  his  memory 
—  had  lost  his  memory  more  than  once  before  —  and  he  knew 
no  better  than  to  join  your  army." 

Then  Colonel  Paull  added,  timidly  I  thought,  but  in  order, 
no  doubt,  not  to  appear  as  a  voluntary  adviser  of  the  great 
general : — 

"  As  I  understand  the  matter,  General,  the  charge  to  which 
Jones  pleads  guilty  is  out  of  date  according  to  Article  88." 

"  What  mean  you,  Colonel  ?  " 

"The  offence  was  committed  more  than  two  years  ago, 
sir." 

"  Ah !  yes  ;  but  you  forget  the  condition  in  Article  88  —  the 


448       A  FBIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

accused  has  not  been  amenable  to  justice  within  the  two  years ; 
we  haven't  been  able  to  get  him."  * 

"  Amenable  to  justice ! "  I  cried ;  "  what  is  it  to  be  amenable 
to  justice  ?  Is  to  be  one  of  General  Stonewall  Jackson's  men 
until  General  Jackson  fell  to  be  amenable  ?  Why  was  he  not 
amenable  ?  Did  he  escape  ?  Instead  of  escaping  he  joined  you ! 
Did  he  absent  himself  from  your  justice?  Instead  of  that, 
he  became  one  of  you !  He  was  one  of  you  for  nearly  eight 
months  of  your  stipulated  two  years !  Not  amenable  to  justice ! 
Why  not  ?  A  man  marching  and  fighting  under  General  A.  P. 
Hill  for  nearly  two  years  not  amenable  ?  Amenable  for  what  ? 
You  did  not  even  know  that  any  offence  had  been  committed ! " 

General  Lee  rose.  He  said :  "  We  have  not  very  much  time. 
It  is  now  two  o'clock,  and  at  three"  —  he  did  not  finish. 
"Colonel,  I  shall  ask  you  to  serve  me  at  once  by  riding  to 
McGowan's  brigade,  as  it  is  on  your  way  back.  Give  my  ver- 
bal order  to  delay.  I  shall  give  Miss  Khayme  the  pleasure  of 
taking  to  her  friend  a  written  respite  for  a  week ;  that  is  the 
best  I  can  do,  my  child  —  no,  no,  no;  no  thanks  —  I  wish  I 
could  do  more  —  and  maybe  I  can  in  the  end  —  but  I  must 
look  into  this  matter  fully." 

Colonel  Paull  had  rushed  from  the  room. 

All  my  strength  forsook  me;  I  sank  back  on  the  seat.  Gen- 
eral Lee  had  disappeared.  Oh,  my  friends,  you  cannot  under- 
stand the  conflicting  emotions  which  now  raged  in  me.  Had  I 
succeeded  ?  I  knew  that  I  had  in  a  measure,  but  this  respite 
might  mean  only  a  prolongation  of  agony.  Yet  I  might  well 
hope,  I  thought,  that  this  grand  man,  this  kind  gentleman, 
after  having  once  taken  upon  himself  the  issue  of  life  in 
Jones's  case,  could  not  willingly  be  cruel  in  the  end.  A  week 

1  The  Confederate  States  Article  of  War,  No.  88,  read  as  follows  :  No  per- 
son shall  be  liable  to  be  tried  and  punished  by  a  general  oourt  martial  for 
any  offence  which  shall  appear  to  have  been  committed  more  than  two  years 
before  the  issuing  of  the  order  for  such  trial,  unless  the  person,  by  reason  of 
having  absented  himself  or  some  other  manifest  impediment,  shall  not  have 
been  amenable  to  justice  within  that  period.  [En.] 


FROM   LYDIA'S  NARRATION  449 

of  torturing  suspense  and  Jones  should  then  be  free  ?  Oh,  no; 
I  could  not  hope  for  that !  Hope  that  General  Lee  would  let 
him  go  without  any  punishment  at  all  ?  How  could  I  hope  for 
that  ?  Jones  would  be  held  a  prisoner ;  even  at/  the  best  he 
would  be  held  a  prisoner  until  the  end  of  the  war.  Yet,  I 
must  say,  my  physical  weakness  was  not  the  result  of  these 
thoughts ;  it  came,  I  don't  know  how  or  why  —  Father  thought 
it  was  a  natural  reaction. 

General  Lee  did  not  return ;  he  sent  out  an  orderly.  I  have 
always  thought  since  that  the  general  did  not  wish  to  see  my 
emotion,  perhaps  wished  to  avoid  my  overflowing  gratitude. 
The  orderly  handed  me  an  unsealed  envelope,  and  told  me  that 
he  was  to  accompany  me  in  order  to  show  me  the  way.  As 
soon  as  I  was  in  the  ambulance  again,  I  opened  the  envelope 
and  read  the  order  which  General  Lee  had  written ;  it  was 
couched  in  the  following  words :  — 

"  HEADQUARTERS  ARMT  NORTHERN  VIRGINIA, 

"  March  27,  1865. 
"  COMMAICDIWG  OFFICER  McGowAN's  BRIGADE  : 

"  The  execution  of  the  sentence  in  the  case  against  B.  Jones  alias  Jones 
Berwick  will  be  postponed  until  further  orders. 

"R.  E.  LEE, 
"  General  Commanding." 

York  was  crying  by  my  side  ;  I  had  taken  the  seat  in  front. 

"  Oh,  York,"  said  I,  "  we  have  saved  him  !  We  have  saved 
him!" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lydia,  I  hope  so !  "  said  York.  "  Colonel  Paull 
told  me  when  he  came  out,  but  I  think  we'd  betteh  hurry  up ! " 

It  was  fully  five  miles,  so  I  learned  afterward,  to  the  place. 
We  had  three-quarters  of  an  hour  only,  but  Colonel  Paull  had 
an  hour  and  was  well  mounted.  But  York's  fears  increased 
mine,  and  I  told  him  to  drive  hard  —  the  orderly  was  a  little 
distance  in  front  of  us,  going  rapidly,  but  his  horse  was  not  a 
very  good  one.  What,  0  my  God,  what  if  something  should 
happen  now ! 
2o 


450       A   FRIEND  WITH  THE  COUNTERSIGN 

At  places  all  along  the  road  we  could  hear  the  cannons ;  but 
the  noises  were  far  to  our  left  hand,  the  most  of  them,  and  we 
were  in  no  danger.  We  passed  troops  of  all  sorts,  some  of 
them  going  and  some  of  them  coming,  and  once  we  had  to  get 
out  of  the  road  to  let  them  march  by.  What  if  Colonel  Paull 
had  been  detained ! 

And  I  begged  York,  though  he  needed  no  begging,  to  beat 
those  poor  horses  which  had  already  worked  so  hard,  and  we 
went  on  fast  really,  though  the  pace  seemed  like  creeping. 
And  at  last  we  came  to  a  place  where  we  saw  in  the  distance 
some  troops  formed  into  three  sides  of  a  square,  and  here  we 
had  to  pause  a  moment,  for  the  road  had  some  wagons  in  it, 
and  as  we  paused  I  heard  the  most  dreadful  music  that  had 
ever  sounded  in  my  ears.  Then  I  saw  the  orderly  riding  very 
fast  and  waving  his  hand  to  us  and  shouting,  but  I  did  not 
know  what  he  said;  and  York  again  started,  and  we  got  to 
the  top  of  the  hill,  at  one  end  of  the  troops,  who  were  all 
standing  still  and  looking  at  the  vacant  side  of  the  square, 
where  were  marching  slowly  a  few  men,  following  the  dreadful 
music ;  and  I  could  see  Jones,  too,  marching,  marching  with 
them,  all  by  himself,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  his  back, 
keeping  step  between  two  small  bodies  of  armed  men.  And 
then  I  saw  a  man  running  —  running  fast  and  waving  his  hat 
as  he  ran,  and  shouting,  and  I  knew  that  he  was  Colonel  Paull, 
and  he  was  running  straight  to  the  marching  men,  and  then  I 
saw  a  man  on  horseback  go  fast  toward  Mr.  Paull,  and  he 
reached  him,  and  then  rode  on  and  stopped  the  marching  men. 
I  don't  know  how  long  all  this  was  in  happening ;  all  I  knew 
was  that  there  was  my  Jones,  in  the  hands  of  the  men  for 
whom  he  had  fought  so  hard,  and  now  they  were  about  to  kill 
him.  Then  I  saw  them  unbind  Jones,  and  I  could  see  that 
Colonel  Paull  was  talking  to  him,  and  Jones  knelt  down  on  the 
ground,  with  his  face  toward  me,  and  clasped  his  hands  together, 
with  his  head  bare,  and  waved  his  hands  up  at  the  sky  and 
toward  me,  and  then  I  saw  no  more. 


XL 

ANNULMENT 

"  God's  in  his  heaven  : 
All's  right  with  the  world."  —  BSOWNINO. 

WHEN  I  saw  Dr.  Khayme's  ambulance,  and  learned  from 
the  gallant  Colonel  Paull  that  General  Lee,  at  Lydia's  appeal, 
had  suspended  the  preparations  made  for  carrying  out  the 
sentence  of  the  court  martial,  the  love  of  life  returned  to  me 
in  almost  overpowering  emotion,  and  for  a  few  seconds  I  was 
incapable  of  giving  utterance  to  thought.  In  a  short  time, 
however,  Lydia's  condition  became  a  subject  of  great  anxiety. 
I  knew  that  I  was  to  be  held  under  guard,  —  perhaps  sent  back 
to  Richmond,  —  and  I  feared  that  the  doubtful  standing  of  an 
occupant  of  a  foreign  ambulance  here  in  the  Confederate  army 
would  cause  her  great  embarrassment,  if  not  actual  suffering. 
While  these  thoughts  were  going  through  my  mind,  Colonel 
Brown  rode  up  and  spoke  to  Colonel  Paull. 

"I  suppose,  Colonel,  you  have  authority  ?"  said  Brown. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply ;  "  I  have  direct  though  verbal 
orders  from  General  Lee.  He  was  to  give  the  written  order 
to  a  friend  of  mine  who  was  to  follow,  and  I  see  that  she  has 
arrived." 

"  You  were  just  in  the  nick  of  time,"  said  Colonel  Brown. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  responded  Paull ;  "  I  should  have  been  here 
before  you  formed,  but  my  horse  fell  and  broke  his  leg  and 
injured  me  a  little,  so  that  I  was  delayed.  I  think  I  was 
worse  scared  than  hurt,  though." 

"  What  is  the  nature  of  General  Lee's  order  ?  " 

461 


452       A  FRIEND  WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

"  A  respite  for  a  week,"  said  Paull ;  then  added,  "  Miss 
Khayme,  in  the  ambulance  up  there,  has  the  written  order." 

An  officer  was  now  sent  to  the  ambulance ;  he  returned  and 
handed  a  message  to  Colonel  Brown. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Brown,  after  reading,  "  I  see  that  it  is  a  little 
broader  than  you  supposed,  Colonel;  it  says  the  sentence  is 
suspended  until  further  orders." 

I  begged  Colonel  Paull  to  go  to  Lydia,  and  he  consented  at 
once,  but  delayed.  He  said  to  Colonel  Brown,  "  I  shall  wish 
to  see  you  privately,  Colonel." 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  Brown ;  "  I'll  be  at  leisure  just 
as  soon  as  I  can  dismiss  the  regiments,"  and  he  rode  to  the 
head  of  the  brigade. 

"  Mr.  Berwick,"  said  Paull,  "  I  shall  try  to  arrange  for  Miss 
Khayme  to  visit  you.  Of  course  you  wish  that?  " 

"  Colonel,  you  will  add  greatly  to  my  gratitude,"  I  said- 
Then  he  went  toward  the  ambulance.  The  platoon  was 
marched  to  camp,  leaving  me  under  a  sergeant  and  two  men, 
who  escorted  me  back  to  the  guard-house. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two  —  while  night  was  gathering 
—  Colonel  Paull  brought  Lydia  to  me.  I  must  forbear.  .  .  . 

What  to  do  with  Lydia  —  now  that  she  was  here  —  troubled 
me  extremely.  Colonel  Paull  suggested  trouble  in  regard  to 
York  also ;  some  of  the  men,  and  some  of  the  officers  even,  had 
been  heard  to  use  language  that  could  have  no  other  meaning 
than  anger  in  consequence  of  a  supposed  Federal  negro's  pres- 
ence in  the  camps.  I  told  him  that  York  had  never  been  a 
combatant,  and  that,  moreover,  he  was  not  a  slave;  this  gave 
the  colonel  great  pleasure  to  hear ;  he  could  now,  he  said,  allay 
all  feeling  on  that  most  delicate  subject.  He  entered  into  our 
troubles  in  regard  to  Lydia,  and  we  discussed  the  situation  in 
all  its  lights.  Something  must  be  done  at  once,  for  I  had 
already  been  notified  that  by  the  next  train  I  must  start  under 
guard  for  Richmond.  It  could  not  be  expected  that  the  Con- 
federates would  allow  Lydia  to  pass  back  into  General  Meade's 


ANNULMENT  453 

lines  —  indeed,  she  did  not  desire  to  do  so;  she  wanted  to  re- 
main as  near  me  as  possible.  The  end  of  the  matter  was  that 
Colonel  Paull  rode  off  to  see  General  A.  P.  Hill,  and  secured 
from  him  written  authority  for  Lydia  to  go  to  Richmond,  with 
a  note  to  General  Ewell,  in  command  there,  asking  that  her 
services  as  a  nurse  be  required  in  some  one  of  the  Confederate 
hospitals. 

Colonel  Paull  told  me  that  Owen  had  been  no  eager  party  to 
my  first  trial,  —  in  fact  had  learned  of  the  trial  almost  by  acci- 
dent, —  but  had  been  the  one  who  had  preferred  charges  against 
me  as  a  spy.  My  admission  that  my  name  was  Jones  Berwick 
had  put  Scranton  on  the  right  scent,  and  he  had  taken  ven- 
geance, not  only  for  former  fancied  wrongs,  but  also  for  my 
having  mortified  him  so  greatly  in  the  first  trial. 

I  remember  the  parting  words  of  Lydia  and  the  colonel. 

Said  he,  "  Have  you  a  sister  ?  " 

And  she  replied :  "  No,  but  I  have  a  brother,  though  I  am  an 
only  child.  God  forever  bless  you,  sir !  " 

She  set  out  at  once  in  the  darkness,  having  York  for  driver, 
and  giving  room  to  two  persons  —  a  wounded  Virginia  officer 
whose  home  was  in  the  beleaguered  capital,  and  a  friend  to 
attend  him,  Lydia's  ambulance,  at  least  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Confederates,  being  a  very  commodious  and  easy  carriage. 

I  had  asked  to  see  Sergeant  Wilson,  but  was  informed  that 
the  First  had  been  sent  to  the  skirmish-line,  and  that  constant 
firing  was  being  kept  up  out  there.  I  never  saw  Wilson  again. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  I  was  sent  to  Richmond,  and 
confined  in  the  Libby,  the  prison  for  Federals,  for  I  was  known 
to  be  a  United  States  soldier.  My  respite  now,  according  to 
General  Lee's  verbal  order,  was  for  six  days  to  come. 

I  could  not  see  Lydia  —  I  would  not  have  had  her  come  to 
this  filthy  place ;  but  by  some  means  —  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  a  lady  whose  name  has  gone  into  history  as  the 
gracious  benefactor  of  many  wretched  prisoners  of  war  —  I 
received  a  letter  from  my  dear  girl ;  she  had  been  given  work  to 


454        A  FEIEND   WITH  THE   COUNTERSIGN 

do  in  Chimborazo  hospital,  and  felt  that  she  was  giving  more 
than  value  received  for  the  protection  accorded  her.  She  wrote 
me  that  she  was  greatly  encouraged  —  that  she  knew  General 
Lee  would  never  give  orders  countermanding  the  one  he  had 
already  given  —  yet  she  was  greatly  distressed  when  she  re- 
membered that  I  must  remain  a  prisoner  until  the  end  of  the 
war. 

The  days  went  slowly  by.  I  knew  that  Lydia  was  suffering 
great  anguish  on  my  account :  in  her  woman's  heart  there  must 
have  been  many  times  when  despair  got  the  better  of  hope, 
yet,  as  she  has  told  me  since,  she  had  almost  supreme  trust 
in  three  persons  under  God  —  three  persons  as  widely  different 
as  political  institutions  could  make  men  to  be  —  her  father, 
General  Grant,  and  General  Lee !  She  knew  that  her  father 
could  not  have  remained  ignorant  of  her  condition  and  of 
mine,  for  Colonel  Sharpe,  and  General  Meade  as  well,  would 
at  once  have  sent  him  information;  she  knew  that  General 
Grant's  powerful  army  was  now  attacking  the  Confederates 
continually,  and  she  was  praying  for  the  end  of  all  to  come ; 
and  her  trust  in  General  Lee's  magnanimous  sense  of  justice 
had  large  influence  in  sustaining  her. 

For  me,  every  day  was  an  eternity.  I  knew  that  life  yet 
hung  upon  a  thread :  why  had  not  the  Confederates  already 
seen  that  long  since  '62  I  had  been  a  spy  ?  If  they  had  not  yet 
seen  it,  they  could  not  fail,  sooner  or  later,  to  know  it  ... 
and  every  day,  yes,  every  hour,  I  expected  to  receive  notifica- 
tion of  new  charges  that  could  not  be  denied ;  how  long  could 
this  thing  last  ? 

The  days  —  horrible  days  —  crept  on ;  days  of  life  and  death 
and  destruction.  I  counted  three  to  the  end  —  the  end  of  my 
respite ;  what  would  be  the  end  ?  My  mortal  danger  oppressed 
me. 

At  last  Sunday  morning  dawned  after  a  night  of  such  con- 
tinuous noises  as  I  had  never  heard  —  the  sound  of  tremendous 
cannonading  along  Grant's  line  of  forty  miles.  And  Sunday 


ANNULMENT  455 

went  by,  with  commotion  in  Richmond  —  the  populace,  espe- 
cially in  the  afternoon,  disturbed  and  fearful.  Some  of  the 
prisoners  were  mad  with  excitement.  One  had  received  the 
news  —  how,  I  do  not  know  —  that  Petersburg  had  fallen  ! 

On  that  Sunday  night  there  was  no  sleep  for  any  one ;  loud 
noises  shook  the  earth  —  from  explosions  ;  we  knew  that  troops 
were  hurrying  through  the  streets,  and  toward  day  the  smell 
of  smoke  invaded  even  my  quarter  of  the  prison,  and  I  knew 
that  the  Confederates  were  burning  what  they  could  not  take 
away ! 

Before  sunrise  the  sound  of  the  conflagration  reached  my 
ears ;  I  heard  running  in  the  corridors  ;  my  companions  and  I 
tried  the  door  —  it  opened ! 

The  Libby  was  a  prison  no  longer.  We  reached  the  street. 
My  companions  scattered  in  the  crowd.  I  made  my  way  to 
Chimborazo  hospital,  passing  through  an  indescribable  scene. 
I  found  Lydia  —  weeping  in  the  arms  of  her  father. 

******* 

The  long  war  had  ended.  Life  —  the  gift  of  the  defeated  — 
was  yet  ours. 

******* 

And  there  came  a  time  when  I  knelt  where  a  new  life  had 
begun,  and  my  heart  stood  still  with  awe  before  creation's 
mystery. 

"  You  know  what  his  name  is,"  she  whispered. 

I  knew. 


NEW  POPULAR  EDITIONS  OF 

MARY  JOHNSTON'S 
NOVELS 

TO  HAVE  AND  TO  HOLD 

It  was  something  new  and  startling  to  see  an  au- 
thor's first  novel  sell  up  into  the  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands, as  did  this  one.  The  ablest  critics  spoke  of 
it  in  such  terms  as  "  Breathless  interest,"  The  high 
water  mark  of  American  fiction  since  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  "  Surpasses  all,"  "  Without  a  rival,"  "  Ten- 
der and  delicate,"  "  As  good  a  story  of  adventure  as 
one  can  find,"  "  The  best  style  of  love  story,  clean, 
pure  and  wholesome." 
AUDREY 

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courage  of  youth,  she  has  stormed  the  very  citadel 
of  adventure.  Indeed  it  would  be  impossible  to 
carry  the  romantic  spirit  any  deeper  into  fiction. — 
Agnes  Repplier. 

PRISONERS  OF  HOPE 

Pronounced  by  the  critics  classical,  accurate,  inter- 
esting, American,  original,  vigorous,  full  of  move- 
ment and  life,  dramatic  and  fascinating,  instinct  with 
life  and  passion,  and  preserving  throughout  a  singu- 
larly even  level  ot  excellence. 

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SUSAN.    By  Ernest  Oldmeadow.    With  a  color  frontispiece 

by  Frank  Haviland.  Medalion  in  color  on  front  cover. 
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WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Web- 

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refreshing  story,  an  ideal  book  to  give  a  young  girl." — Chicago 
Record-Herald.  "  An  idyllic  story,  replete  with  pathos  and  inimita- 
ble humor.  As  story-telling  it  is  perfection,  and  as  portrait-painting 
it  is  true  to  the  life.  —  London  Mail. 

TILLIE:    A  Mennonite  Maid.    By  Helen  R.  Martin.    With 

illustrations  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

The  little  "  Mennonite  Maid  "  who  wanders  through  these  pages 
is  something  quite  new  in  fiction.  Tillie  is  hungry  for  books  and 
beauty  and  love ;  and  she  comes  into  her  inheritance  at  the  end. 
"  Tillie  is  faulty,  sensitive,  big-hearted,  eminently  human,  and  first, 
last  and  always  lovable.  Her  charm  glows  warmly,  the  story  is  well 
handled,  the  characters  skilfully  developed."—  The  Book  Buyer. 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

With  illustrations  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
•'The  most  marvellous  work  of  its  wonderful  author." — New  York 
World.  "We  touch  regions  and  attain  altitudes  which  it  is  not  given 
to  the  ordinary  novelist  even  to  approach." — London  Times^  "In 
no  other  story  has  Mrs.  Ward  approached  the  brilliancy  and  vivacity 
of  Lady  Rose's  Daughter." — North  American  Review. 

THE  BANKER  AND  THE  BEAR.  By  Henry  K.  Webster. 
"  An  exciting  and  absorbing  story." — New  York  Times.  "Intense- 
ly thrilling  in  parts,  but  an  unusually  good  story  all  through.  There 
is  a  love  affair  of  real  charm  and  most  novel  surroundings,  there  is  a 
run  on  the  bank  which  is  almost  worth  a  year's  growth,  and  there  is 
all  manner  of  exhilarating  men  and  deeds  which  should  bring  the 
book  into  high  and  permanent  favor.*'— CAicag-o  Evening  Post. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


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tions of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume  postpaid 

THE   SPIRIT   OF  THE  SERVICE.     By  Edith  Elmer 

Wood  With  illustrations  by  Rufus  Zogbaum. 
The  standards  and  life  of  "  the  new  navy '  are  breezily  set  forth 
with  a  genuine  ring  impossible  from  the  most  gifted  "outsider." 
"  The  story  of  the  destruction  of  the  '  Maine,'  and  of  the  Battle  of 
Manila,  are  very  dramatic.  The  author  is  the  daughter  of  one  naval 
officer  and  the  wife  of  another.  Naval  folks  will  find  much  to  inter- 
est them  in '  The  Spirit  of  the  Service.'  "—Tht  Book  Buyer. 

A  SPECTRE  OF  POWER.  By  Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 
Miss  Murfree  has  pictured  Tennessee  mountains  and  the  mountain 
people  in  striking  colors  and  with  dramatic  vividness,  but  goes  back 
to  the  tune  of  the  struggles  of  the  French  and  English  in  the  early 
eighteenth  century  for  possession  of  the  Cherokee  territory.  The 
story  abounds  in  adventure,  mystery,  peril  and  suspense. 

THE  STORM  CENTRE.    By  Charles  Egbert  Craddock. 

A  war  story ,  but  more  of  flirtation,  love  and  courtship  than  of 
fighting  or  history.  The  tale  is  thoroughly  readable  and  takes  its 
readers  again  into  golden  Tennessee,  into  the  atmosphere  which  has 
distinguished  all  of  Miss  Murfree's  novels. 

THE  ADVENTURESS.  By  Coralie  Stanton.  With  color 
frontispiece  by  Harrison  Fisher,  and  attractive  inlay  cover 
in  colors 

As  a  penalty  for  her  crimes,  her  evil  nature,  her  flint-like  callous- 
ness, her  more  than  inhuman  cruelty,  her  contempt  for  the  laws  of 
God  and  man,  she  was  condemned  to  bury  her  magnificent  personal- 
ty, her  transcendent  beauty,  her  superhuman  charms,  in  gilded 
obscurity  at  a  King's  left  hand.  A  powerful  story  powerfully  told. 

THE  GOLDEN  GREYHOUND.  A  Novel  by  Dwight 
Tilton  With  illustrations  by  E.  Pollak. 

A  thoroughly  good  story  that  keeps  you  guessing  to  the  very  end, 
and  never  attempts  to  instruct  or  reform  you.  It  is  a  strictly  up-to- 
date  story  of  love  and  mystery  with  wireless  telegraphy  and  all  the 
modem  improvements.  The  events  nearly  all  take  place  on  a  big 
Atlantic  liner  and  the  romance  of  the  deep  is  skilfully  made  to  serve 
as  a  setting  for  the  romance,  old  as  mankind,  yet  always  new,  in- 
volving our  hero. 

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PRINCESS  MARITZA 

A  NOVEL  OF  RAPID  ROMANCE. 

BY  PERCY  BREBNER 
With  Harrison  Fisher  Illustrations  in  Color. 

Offers  more  real  entertainment  and  keen  enjoyment  than 
any  book  since  "  Graustark."  Full  of  picturesque  life  and 
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Maritza  is  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne,  but  is  kept  away  from 
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Books  by  George  Barr  McCutcheon 

BREWSTER'S  MILLIONS 

Mr.  Montgomery  Brewster  is  required  to  spend  a  million 
dollars  in  one  year  in  order  to  inherit  seven  millions.  He  must 
be  absolutely  penniless  at  that  time,  and  yet  have  spent  the 
million  in  a  way  that  will  commend  him  as  fit  to  inherit  the 
larger  sum.  How  he  does  it  forms  the  basis  for  one  of  the 
most  crisp  and  breezy  romances  of  recent  years. 

CASTLE  CRANEYCROW 

The  story  revolves  around  the  abduction  of  a  young  Ameri- 
can woman  and  the  adventures  created  through  her  rescue. 
The  title  is  taken  from  the  name  of  an  old  castle  on  the  Con- 
tinent, the  scene  of  her  imprisonment. 

GRAUSTARK:  A  Story  of  a  Love  Behind  a  Throne. 

This  work  has  been  and  is  to-day  one  of  the  most  popular 
works  of  fiction  of  this  decade.  The  meeting  of  the  Princess 
of  Graustark  with  the  hero,  while  travelling  incognito  in  this 
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spiracies to  dethrone  her,  and  their  happy  marriage,  provide 
entertainment  which  every  type  of  reader  will  enjoy. 

THE  SHERRODS.  With  illustrations  byC.  D.Williams 

A  novel  quite  unlike  Mr.  McCutcheon's  previous  works  in 
the  field  of  romantic  fiction  and  yet  possessing  the  charm  in- 
separable from  anything  he  writes.  The  scene  is  laid  in  In- 
diana and  the  theme  is  best  described  in  the  words,  "  Whom 
God  hath  joined,  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

Each  volume  handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  Large  12010.  size. 
Price  71;  cents  per  volume,  postpaid. 

GROSSET    &    DDNLAP,     PUBLISHERS 
52  DUANE  STREET  ::  NEW  YORK 


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